


Candied Tongue

by Mydnyte_Houre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Epic, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Insanity, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mydnyte_Houre/pseuds/Mydnyte_Houre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart." Bellatrix Black arrives at Hogwarts for her seventh year and begins to join the cause that will define the rest of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patience is a Virtue

**Author's Note:**

> My fic about Bellatrix and her past that I've been writing for a couple years and I have never gotten around to finishing. Goes from her last year of school to her imprisonment, and will end up being pretty dark once she graduates. This fic is my favourite child, and I promise you it will always be updated eventually. Enjoy!

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

Bellatrix Black knew that she was beautiful. She had her family's aristocratic good looks: high cheekbones that invited shadows beneath shining black eyes, glossy ebony curls that cascaded past white shoulders. Her dark red lips stood out in her pale face like a rose fallen on snow. Her gloved fingers moved across the side of her face, mimicking its shape. Bellatrix could feel that she was beautiful, even if society hadn't dropped a few hints. She could have any man she wanted wrapped around her finger—and that was the only way she would take him.

She stepped onto the platform as the crimson train behind her belched smoke into the night. Tightening the fastenings on her cloak, she swept towards the line of horseless carriages. The one she climbed into was unoccupied, but as soon as she slid gracefully into the carriage, she felt it lurch gently to the side. She watched as a young man, his face hooded by rough stubble and the dark brown hair that fell across his forehead, lowered himself onto the seat beside her. His broad shoulders pressed into the back of the seat, and his head turned slowly to look at her. His profile, the patrician nose and defined chin, was outlined in the flickering torchlight.

He let his eyes trace from the heel of her boot up her leg. His gaze paused at the pale chest that gleamed above black silk and finally found her face.

"Took you long enough," Bellatrix said, smirking slightly. She hadn't decided if she meant the time it had taken him to find her carriage, or the time it had taken him to look her in the eye.

"I can't help it." Rodolphus Lestrange's voice was deep, and it grew lower as his lips moved closer to her ear. She let him kiss her once on the neck and then shifted her attention elsewhere.

"Is Lucius coming?"

The corner of Rodolphus' mouth twitched, but he nodded. "Narcissa's with him."

"My clingy little sister," Bellatrix muttered, rolling her eyes. She traced her lower lip with her finger, gazing into the black forest in the distance.

"You know," Rodolphus added, "she's going to figure it out sooner or later, especially if she and Lucius are that close."

"I know that," she snapped. "But I don't want her finding out now. She's too young, and she's too much of a liability. Besides, she wouldn't even be useful."

The dark-haired man beside her laid a calming hand on her shoulder, and she exhaled. Of all the men she had, Rodolphus was the only one who could try to pacify her without fear of being punished for his efforts—and with Bellatrix, even that wasn't a guarantee. But he was her rock, the only one who truly understood how trapped she felt at school. He was the only one who saw the havoc and destruction she could cause if her twisted mind was given free rein.

But no one could quite anticipate the extent of that warped psyche, not even Bellatrix herself.

The couple felt the carriage sway again as Lucius Malfoy placed a heavy boot on the step. Only a year younger, he was a stark contrast to the dark figures who sat wrapped in each other's shadows. His slim, pointed face was framed by blonde hair that seemed almost white, and his eyes were cold and grey. Lucius set himself carefully onto the seat and reached a hand out towards the door, where a girl who looked like a feminine version of himself moved to take it.

"Narcissa," Bellatrix said coolly, "why don't you find another carriage?"

Two pairs of grey eyes widened in her direction. "Bella," her sister whined, "you're always keeping me out of things."

Bellatrix's eyes glittered and narrowed slightly as she gave Lucius a look.

"Look, Cissy…" Lucius pulled his hand back and tucked it neatly into his robes. "I'll see you up at the feast, all right?" His voice was smooth and persuasive; he gave the distinct impression that his words were dripping out of his mouth, coated in honey and oil. "We just need a few minutes. Go sit with your friends."

"But—"

There was neither honey nor oil in Bellatrix's voice. "Cissy, I said go!"

Narcissa pouted and removed her foot from the carriage, finally letting it heave back onto its wheels.

Bellatrix closed the door, letting the latch click softly underneath her hand. She slowly removed her gloves, straightening each finger and smoothing the leather, and laid them on her lap. Rodolphus, who had watched the scene with Narcissa with faint amusement, took the opportunity to place his hand over her now bare ones.

"Is this really so important?" Lucius inquired, examining the threads of his scarf.

"No." Bellatrix restrained the satisfaction in her voice. Lucius was useful, even skilled, but he tried her patience. She enjoyed the moments when she could manipulate him for no reason at all.

Rodolphus smirked as the carriage shuddered and began rumbling up the path towards the castle. Across from him, Lucius sighed heavily and turned away, stretching his legs across the seat.

Bellatrix glanced out the window and began moving her fingers gently over her left forearm. Her fingernails bit into the flawless skin in absentminded frustration. Rodolphus caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and bared his unmarked arm beside hers in sympathy.

"Patience is a virtue, love," he whispered into her hair, tickling the back of her neck with his warm breath. "We'll get them soon."


	2. Don't Try to Swim

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

That night, Bellatrix and her friends gathered in the common room. The group had grown over the years, and now they dominated the little circle of silver and green couches by the fire. Bellatrix lounged on the largest couch, stretching her legs until they reached Rodolphus' lap. He ran his finger over the sleek leather of her boot, smoothing invisible scratches and scuffs. His eyes met hers, but only briefly; she gave him a delicious smile, raised one eyebrow, and turned to survey the students gathered around them.

Lucius sat in the nearest armchair, and Narcissa was curled at his feet with her head on his knee. Daniel Avery stood behind them, leaning his elbows on the back of the chair and gazing wistfully at the blonde girl. Evan Rosier had stretched his legs across his entire couch in an imitation of Bellatrix, pushing a disgruntled Regulus to the edge of the cushion. Alecto Carrow sat cross-legged on her own couch, looking incomplete without her brother in his usual place beside her. The last armchair, furthest from the fire and barely visible in the subtly flickering shadows, was occupied by Severus Snape.

Bellatrix flicked her wand and conjured a bottle of blood red nail polish. She lifted the brush and began painting her nails. Someone coughed. She slowly and deliberately raised her head in the direction of the sound.

"Yes?" Her voice was low.

The offending boy ran a hand through his faded reddish-brown curls. "I've got schoolwork to do, if you're not going to say anything."

"That's lovely, Rosier," Bellatrix said calmly. "Why don't we all have sharing time? Does anyone else have something they'd like to discuss?" Her lips twisted in a sarcastic smile, and Rosier blushed.

"Actually…" Alecto's silky voice floated out from the couch that seemed to engulf her tiny form. "There is something I'd like ask."

Rodolphus glanced at his girlfriend, but she kept her eyes intently on her hands. Sweeping the brush across her thumb, she studied her nails before moving on to the other hand.

The girl pushed her short blonde hair behind her ears and smoothed her robes. "Right after Amycus graduated last year, he got his M—"

"Quiet!" Bellatrix hissed, her eyes suddenly wild, but it was too late.

"Is that what you've been up to?" Narcissa asked, pressing a hand to her lips. "Bellatrix—"

"Have you been trying to keep this a secret?" Avery tried to scoff, but he couldn't hide the curiosity in his voice. "Did you think we were too young?"

"Frankly," Bellatrix replied coldly, "I did." She resumed painting her nails. "We can't have anyone compromising our interests."

"Your interests?" Narcissa practically spat. "Your _interests_ are getting too deep into a—a—an organization that you know nothing about."

Bellatrix's hand paused in its repetitive motion, hovering over her nail. She said nothing.

"This organization, as you put it," Rodolphus interjected, "is something that your sister and I could tell you all about." He paused and glanced at Bellatrix out of the corner of his eye, searching for approval. "Alecto and her brother could tell you all about it. Your boyfriend could tell you all about it, but he hasn't, because he knows that's good for him." He looked Narcissa in the eye. His hair fell across his face, darkening his stare, and she swallowed hard. "So I suggest that you wait for the day when you're less of a liability, if that's possible. Learn some patience and restraint; it might be useful one day."

Bellatrix couldn't hide a satisfied smile. She sat up and pressed her lips softly against Rodolphus' rough cheek, letting her mouth slide along the sharp line of his jaw.

Narcissa finally found her voice. "Bellatrix… why are you doing this?"

"What makes you think you have a right to know?" Bellatrix tucked her nail polish into the pocket of her robes. "You don't deserve to know. You don't deserve the honour, Cissy."

"I'm just as skilled a witch as you are—"

"Mistaken as you are, that isn't the point." She swung her legs from Rodolphus' lap and sat forward on the couch. Her dark eyes caught the firelight and glittered madly. "It's about _loyalty_ ," she breathed, and the group seemed to lean forward as one to catch her words. She repeated, "It's about loyalty.

"It's about being faithful, so faithful that your own life means nothing. You are willing to give up everything, put yourself and everything you hold dear in danger, because of the strength of your ideals. The strength of your beliefs that this world can be pure, that it can be turned from the corruption it drowns in… that's what drives you." She took a deep breath. "Yes, skill is important. No one can eradicate the filth from this world without prodigious magical skill. But all the skill in the world is useless if there is no loyalty behind it. You have to treasure your Lord above yourself."

She looked around the room. Eight pairs of eyes were fixed, unblinking and wide, on Bellatrix. She licked her lips and smiled, examining her nails. As calm as she appeared, her heart was still pounding against her chest with a martial beat, and her eyes glowed with passion and reverence.

Strangely, Regulus was the first to speak. "You're talking about loyalty to… to the one they call the Dark Lord?"

"Of course," Bellatrix replied.

"And… that's what you want us to strive for?"

The feeling of control sent a rush of adrenalin through her body. "I thought that much was obvious."

Regulus looked at the floor and nodded.

Narcissa stood up suddenly and straightened her robes. "You've become a fanatic, Bellatrix." Her words were confident, but her voice was shaky. She kept a wary eye on her sister's wand where it peeked out of her robes. "You spent all that time with the Lestranges this summer"—here the nervous gaze shifted briefly to Rodolphus—"and now you're… different. All this nonsense with the Dark Lord—"

"Get out." Bellatrix's voice was low and shaking, a barely suppressed explosion lurking in her throat.

"I—"

Her restraint shattered. "Get out!" she screeched, drawing looks from the other Slytherins in the common room. "Get out! You're as bad as Andromeda! GET OUT!"

Narcissa backed away quickly, stumbling over a table, and hurried up the stairs and out of sight. Bellatrix stood in front of the fire, her fists clenched and her knuckles white. Her eyes burned. Rodolphus placed a hand on her waist and tried to coax her back onto the couch, but she slapped him away.

"The rest of you can get out of my sight as well," she hissed, staring around the circle of chairs.

One by one, the rest of their little group slunk away. Bellatrix exhaled heavily and sank onto the couch beside Rodolphus. He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers. After a few seconds, she parted her lips and let his tongue slip against hers. Her knee slowly moved between his thighs, and she maneuvered herself on top of him as his hands slid through her soft, dark curls.

"Bellatrix." The voice came from behind her.

She spent a moment with her lips barely connected to Rodolphus', and then slowly turned around. A boy stood before her, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His greasy black hair stood out against his sallow skin, marked by the nose that protruded like a beak from his face.

"What do you want, Snape?" she asked wearily.

"That was quite a speech you made," he murmured. He looked up but, finding her eyes impossible to meet, quickly resumed studying the floor. "Did you really mean what you said? About the kind of loyalty that the Dark Lord demands?" His voice didn't waver.

"Absolutely," she declared without hesitation. She looked to Rodolphus for confirmation, and he nodded his dark head.

"I know you may not think that we younger students can handle that kind of responsibility," Severus persisted earnestly, "but not all of us are as shallow as your sister." He managed the courage to catch Rodolphus' eye. "Lestrange can tell you, I can be useful to the Dark Lord. More importantly, I can be faithful. And I want to be. I want to be a part of your cause."

Bellatrix took the side of his face in her hand, pressing her nails into his thin cheek, and forced him to meet her gaze. Her eyes searched his.

"You could have potential," she conceded, "but that means nothing. You're sincere, I'll give you that… but the Dark Lord doesn't need sincerity. He needs followers." Her nails dug deeper. "And I don't know if you can be one."

"Let him judge that." Severus tried to pull away, but found himself trapped by her fiercely glinting eyes. "Bring me to him, and I can prove myself. To him."

Bellatrix didn't miss the implication of his final two words. "If you can't prove yourself to me, I doubt he'll find you satisfactory." Her red lips widened into a smile. "But you're welcome to make an attempt." She released her grip, leaving a row of tiny red crescents across his cheek

Severus turned to go, but she caught his wrist. "Don't try to swim where you can't touch the bottom, Snape," she warned. Her voice was like poisoned sugar. "I wouldn't want to see you drown."

He bit his lip and pulled away, leaving the room quickly. She didn't watch him go.

Rodolphus ran a hand down her arm, stroking the pale skin, and she let him pull her back into the couch. She twisted in his arms and spread her scarlet-nailed hands across his chest, pushing him back against the pillows. He made a low groan of protest, but she glanced quickly around the room and assured him that they were alone.

"That wasn't what I meant," he muttered. He pushed aside the curtain of hair that hung across her face. "I just can't see you in the dark." His thumb brushed her cheek. "You're so beautiful."

The tenderness of his intimacy made Bellatrix uncomfortable. "Tell me you want me," she commanded in a whisper.

He was obliging, recognizing that now was not the time. "I want you," he said against her ear. His hand slithered to the back of her neck and pulled her face towards his. She shifted her legs on the couch and kissed him, sinking her chest into his. With his free hand he pushed the heavy robes from her shoulders, revealing the crisp white fabric of her shirt. She did the same to him and smirked as she slowly loosened his tie. Holding the silk taut, she lifted his arms over his head and pressed the tie against his wrists, pinning them down.

They kept kissing, their tongues struggling for dominance in the shared space between their lips. Bellatrix dug her hips against his and sat up, managing to straddle his waist and keep his wrists pinned at the same time. Rodolphus stared up at her, his eyes dark with heat.

"Did you think I'd be so vulgar as to forget my promise?" she asked slowly.

Rodolphus licked his lips, inviting her to forget it.

"I told you," she whispered, bending closer to reach his ear, "that I wouldn't give myself to you until we had our Marks."

"I know," he sighed, "but I thought—"

"You thought wrong."

"Do you have to be so fickle? Do you have to tease me like this?"

She let the tie slide across his wrists, freeing them. He seized her face in his hands.

"Yes." She savored the feel of his rough hands holding her hostage. "You open yourself to it so easily; I have to take the opportunity." She kissed him and stood up, straightening her skirt. "But I swear to you, Rodolphus, that when we get our Marks at Christmastime…" She shivered with delight. "I'll let you have me."

"Me and only me?"

Bellatrix was not insulted. She wound a tendril of hair around her finger, admiring the way it shone in the glow from the fire's dying embers. "Of course only you. Didn't you hear what I said?"

"You say a lot of things." Rodolphus was buttoning up his shirt.

"Loyalty, Rodolphus. And faithfulness." She winked. "It wasn't obvious that it applied to you, too?"

She ran a finger down the side of his face and across his lips. He kissed it softly. She turned on her heel and made her way up the stairs to her room.

"I'm still not sure it applies to me," Rodolphus said aloud.

Standing just around the corner on the dark stairway, Bellatrix smiled to herself. She always had a talent for choosing the most perceptive ones.


	3. You Haven't Changed a Bit

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps on royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

The older students at Hogwarts waited anxiously for a month before the first Hogsmeade visit was announced. The third years, tasting freedom for the first time, made plans with each other to travel in small packs around the little village. They pressed the eldest students for details and advice—which stores to visit, which candies to avoid—and these students were only too happy to oblige.

Of course, none of the younger Slytherins would ever have dreamed of trying to engage the older ones in conversation. Most of them assumed that the sixth and seventh years had given up going to Hogsmeade, never having seen them there. This wasn't true; the sixth and seventh years had simply found other places to go that their fellows hadn't the knowledge (or the courage) to visit.

Bellatrix had left Rodolphus and Lucius to play chess in the common room. Narcissa had tried to follow her, claiming that she needed to do some shopping.

"Narcissa, I'm not going to tell you any more about it."

The blonde pouted. "You used to tell me everything. I said I was sorry for being disrespectful; can't you just tell me what you're planning?"

Bellatrix pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and looked back at her sister. "Cissy…" She sighed impatiently. "This is important to me. Maybe one day, it'll mean something to you, too."

"I just want to spend more time with you."

"Well," the dark-haired girl snapped, "today isn't the day for that, all right?" Spotting Alecto Carrow coming out of a nearby shop, she waved her over. "Alecto, take Narcissa with you. I need to get her out of my hair."

Alecto tried not to roll her eyes. "Of course." She took Narcissa's elbow and started pulling her up the street. "We'll see you later."

Bellatrix turned away, the chilly wind blowing her hair over her shoulder. Her boots clicked softly against the dusty road as she made her way around the corner and out of her sister's sight.

Here the road began to slope upwards slightly. The buildings were further apart; trees and bushes were few and far between. Bellatrix strolled gracefully up the street until she arrived at a building as dilapidated as its neighbours. The charred-looking door hung open on its hinges, flanked by grimy windows. A cracked wooden sign proclaiming "The Hog's Head" gave an unnatural creak as it swung in the breeze on its rusty chains. Bellatrix noticed that beneath the barely legible script on the sign was a faded painting of a boar's head, severed at the neck and dripping dark red blood. She glanced down at the doorknob and slid her black gloves elegantly onto her hands before pulling the door open.

She stood in a dark, musty room, where faint smoke and a foul stench that she didn't care to identify hung in the air. She quickly lifted the hood of her cloak over her head and found a booth in the corner furthest from the doors. The young bartender, someone she didn't recognize, caught her eye and did a double take; she winked and shook her head slowly.

As he turned away to continue cleaning glasses, she surveyed his back with some interest. His shoulders were not as broad as Rodolphus', but smaller and more muscular. His long dark hair would have hung to his shoulders, had it not been combed back neatly and tied with a thin black ribbon at the nape of his neck. She had barely noticed his face, but his eyes had been bright grey, almost silver.

"Shopping already, Bellatrix?"

She managed to control the jolt of surprise that ran through her chest and glanced calmly at the man who had taken the seat across the table from her.

"I can't believe Rodolphus is already tired of you," he added teasingly.

Bellatrix flashed him a smile. "On the contrary… I'll soon tire of Rodolphus."

The man laughed and pushed his messy black hair back from his forehead, revealing startlingly blue eyes. "You haven't changed a bit, Bellatrix."

She put a hand to her chest mockingly. "You wound me, Antonin. Are you suggesting that I toyed with men's hearts at the tender age of thirteen?"

Dolohov's eyes drifted to her chest and up the white curve of her neck. "You toyed with mine."

"You were seventeen." Bellatrix waved a hand indifferently. "What can I say? I was intrigued." Her eyes glittered as she pulled her hood closer about her cheeks. "But that's not why I'm here. I'm not so intrigued by you as I am by your—"

"Connections?" Dolohov grinned.

Bellatrix slowly pulled her glove from her hand and reached across the table, placing her right palm in his left. Her fingers traced up his wrist, stopping in the center of his forearm. Suddenly, she pressed a scarlet fingernail into the skin with all her might. "You might say that."

Dolohov wrenched his arm from her grip and bit back a cry, cradling his arm against his chest. "Bitch," he growled, just loud enough for her to hear.

Bellatrix smiled and lifted her hand into the air, catching the attention of the young man she had seen before. He moved to their table quickly, ignoring her companion, and looked into her eyes.

"Yes?" His voice was as smooth as the chocolate-coloured hair sweeping across his pale brow. Bellatrix saw something familiar in his profile, in the finely carved nose and strong chin; something, too, in the effortless way he moved.

She made no reply, enjoying how captivated he was, frozen by her gaze. It was the same adrenaline rush that she felt when the younger students were under her control, but this man was older than her by several years.

Dolohov broke the silence. "Two firewhiskeys, please." His voice was rough; his left arm was still curled in pain underneath the table.

"Isn't she a bit young, sir?" The young man looked at Bellatrix, trying to appraise the girl beneath the hood.

She smiled sweetly up at him. "That's none of your concern, is it?"

As the light finally caught her face, a flash of recognition seemed to cross his countenance. She saw the change but made no indication that she had noticed it.

"Two firewhiskeys, then," the young man said softly. He nodded once at Bellatrix and swept away from their booth.

Dolohov watched him until he was out of earshot, and then leaned forward conspiratorially. "I'll forger that little trick because you're young," he growled, "but I'm warning you now that you can't play games like that around him."

"Around whom?" she asked with faux innocence. "Can't you say his name?"

"It's not safe, even here. People aren't quite… receptive to his ideas yet."

Bellatrix tossed her head proudly. "I would be honoured to speak of the Dark Lord and carry out his plans."

Dolohov cast a hurried glance around the bar, but no one seemed to be listening. It was not a place that attracted idle ears; each little booth was too wrapped up in its own secrets to hear the secrets of others. He sighed. "I know you would be. And you'll get your chance. But he doesn't want students while they're still vulnerable to nosy Muggle-lovers like Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore," she scoffed. "He doesn't know half of what goes on under his skinny nose."

"He knows more than you think," her companion warned. "You and Lestrange are lucky to be getting your Marks at Christmas." He saw the look of glowing pride on her face. "Don't think it's because you're special; the younger students just listen to you two. You're useful, that's all."

"I can certainly be more useful than you," Bellatrix said acidly. "Be quiet; the drinks are coming."

A pale hand set a small, dusty glass in front of each of them. The young man poured a measure of a clear, slightly smoking liquid into each glass and straightened up. Bellatrix stared at Dolohov as if waiting for the obvious; he reached into his robes and tossed a few coins on the table, exhaling loudly. The man pocketed them swiftly and turned away.

Like Dolohov, she waited for the man to leave before continuing. "I don't expect to rise through the ranks the day I get my Mark," she said softly, "but I know that it will happen. I believe in the Dark Lord's ideas. I've seen the way bad blood can corrupt our world, and I want to end it." She closed her eyes briefly, and a vision of her youngest sister burned against her eyelids. When she opened them again, he was staring at her with a cruel smile twisted across his lips.

"You're more determined than many I've seen," he mused, lifting his glass carefully between his thumb and forefinger. "I think you could be a real asset to him." He caught her eye over the rim of his glass, blue fixed on black. "Christmas, then?"

Bellatrix's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes narrowed as she lifted her own glass. "Christmas."

They tapped their glasses together gently across the table. Dolohov downed his shot in one gulp and wiped his hand over his mouth. Bellatrix let the alcohol pour slowly between her lips, searing her throat and warming her body as it burned. She felt the lingering heat rise to her head.

Dolohov stood. "You should get back to school," he said.

She followed suit, readjusting her cloak and fixing her hood securely around her face. He walked to the door with her, held it open so that she could step out before him, and let it fall shut.

"Say hello to Lestrange for me, won't you?" He grinned. "And tell him that Rabastan says hello as well."

She lifted her hand gracefully towards him; he raised it further and pressed his lips to the smooth ivory skin. "It was lovely seeing you again, Antonin."

"The pleasure was all mine," he returned. "Until Christmas?"

Bellatrix nodded and watched him move away up the street, his dark robe billowing around him in the wind. She ran a red-nailed finger over her lips, deep in thought as she watched his form recede in the distance. An imaginary prickle danced up her left forearm; she resisted the urge to look at the unblemished skin that would only make her angry.

"Only a few months," she whispered aloud.

As she made her way back down towards the village, she caught up with Alecto as she was heading back to Hogwarts. "Where's Cissy?"

"She was tired. She wanted to go back and see Lucius." Alecto looked up at the sky. "We should hurry. It looks like it might start raining soon."

Bellatrix quickened her pace slightly. "Was she asking questions?"

The other girl sighed and bit her lip. "She wanted to know if I knew what you were up to," she answered hesitantly, "and who else was involved?"

"And?"

"And I told her that it was none of her business." Alecto glanced over at her through her curtain of blonde hair. "But… are you and Lestrange really going to get your Marks soon?"

Bellatrix kept silent for a moment, and then said, "We are." She stopped in her tracks and faced Alecto. "Is there… a problem with that?" Her voice was cold.

"Of course not; you know I wouldn't object to anything you did." There was tension in her voice, as though she had to restrain something inside her. "But… Amycus didn't get his until he graduated, and I would have thought—"

"That the Dark Lord didn't care for students?" Bellatrix gave her a satisfied smile. "Well, it seems that he does. Rodolphus and I have enough potential that he wants us with him even before we leave school. That's how much the Dark Lord needs us."

Before Alecto had time to respond, Bellatrix turned around and strode towards the dark castle looming in the distance. The grey clouds gathering overhead cracked as a splinter of lightning shot down to earth. After a few minutes of unnatural heat, the rain began to fall.


	4. You Can't Imagine How it Feels

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

That night in the Great Hall, Bellatrix slid into her usual place beside Rodolphus near the end of the Slytherin table. She took a piece of chicken and toyed with it apathetically before speaking.

"I went to the Hog's Head this afternoon," she said.

Rodolphus paused, his fork hovering in the air over his plate. "Oh?"

She lowered her voice. "It will definitely be at Christmas." She looked up at him, unable to contain her smile. Her skin tingled.

He grinned slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. "That's perfect. Mum's letting you stay over for the holidays; we'll be right there with Rabastan." Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he swiftly continued eating.

Bellatrix slowly let her spoon fall and folded her hands in her lap. She appeared calm, but there was a warning note in her voice. "Aren't you excited?" she inquired, biting each word.

"Of course I am." He looked up at her and saw that her eyes were dark, focused sharply on him. "Bellatrix…" He stopped eating and took both her hands in his, running his thumb over her wrist. "Bellatrix, love, you know I'm looking forward to it."

"This is what I've waited my whole life for," she said coldly.

"As have I."

She remained unconvinced. "Are you really ready for this kind of responsibility, Rodolphus? This kind of loyalty?"

"Do you really think you need to question me on this?" His eyes hardened. "I _am_ devoted. Who told you that the Dark Lord was looking for followers? I did."

"Stop trying to argue, Rodolphus. It isn't becoming."

He shifted on the bench so that he was facing her directly and reached his hand towards her face, running a finger down her pale cheek. She remained motionless, fixing her glare on him. There was a moment of silence, of tension thicker than blood, and then Rodolphus licked his lips and looked down. Bellatrix exhaled slowly and with satisfaction. Caught in their own world, the two were separate from the rest of the table in that pivotal instant. None of the other Slytherins seemed to realize the shifting tides of power that had swept over them.

Rodolphus seemed to be waiting for Bellatrix to speak, but she merely picked up her spoon and calmly resumed eating. "We're both anxious about the Marks," he finally said in a low voice. "But by next year we'll have them."

"Yes."

"And just think how it'll be when we graduate, and we can ally ourselves completely with him."

"Indeed."

"Please don't give me one-word answers, Bellatrix."

"I'm not."

He sighed and turned back towards the table, but something caught his eye. As Bellatrix reached across the table, her right arm touched the rough, splintered edge. She winced and grabbed her forearm, hissing softly in pain. Noticing his curious stare, she snapped, "I hurt myself."

But by now Lucius, across the table from them, had seen it, too. "Couldn't have hurt that much," he sneered. "Practicing for your Mark?"

She narrowed her eyes and growled at him. Losing interest, Rodolphus tossed his napkin down and stood, plucking at his cuffs. "Well, I've got a Charms essay to finish," he announced. He glanced at Bellatrix, as though half-heartedly expecting something; she met his gaze with raised eyebrows and remained in her seat, her face impassive. He coughed, straightened his tie, and bent to press a kiss to her cool cheek. Besides slightly inclining her neck to receive him, she gave no indication that she had noticed.

When Rodolphus left, Narcissa leaned towards her sister conspiratorially and asked, "What's going on with you and Rodolphus?"

Bellatrix tucked her hair behind her ear. "He's simply being difficult," she replied coolly. "It's not a problem."

"What's he being difficult about? You seemed really angry with him."

"He isn't showing the proper appreciation for the opportunity that the Dark Lord is giving us." Her low voice held no hesitation.

Narcissa's dark eyes widened. "Bellatrix, should you really be talking about—"

"Oh, not you, too!" her sister spat. "It is a privilege to speak of the Dark Lord as one of his followers. The honour he has bestowed upon us by allowing us to get our Marks as students should be respected." She gave Lucius a pointed look. "Rodolphus doesn't quite understand the devotion that is expected, and it seems that Cissy doesn't, either."

The blonde bit her lip. "I want to follow what you and Lucius do, you know that." Her boyfriend wound his fingers through hers. "But aren't you—we—a bit young to be taking this so seriously?"

"You have to take this seriously," Lucius warned. "He won't accept anything but pure allegiance." He looked down at his watch. "I've got to get some work done. Are either of you coming?"

Narcissa shook her head, but Bellatrix folded her napkin and nodded. "I've got the same essay as Rodolphus," she said. She straightened her tie in an odd imitation of Rodolphus and beckoned to Lucius.

Once out of the Great Hall, she led the way down towards the dungeons. Bellatrix swept down the corridor and onto the stairs. Lucius was barely onto the top step when the staircase groaned, lurched, and shuddered to life. It began to slide from its place and swing towards another wall. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh, turning towards Lucius, but before she could speak, the staircase gave a sudden creaking shift. She threw out her hand to the railing to steady herself. As she did, her sleeve slid up her wrist to reveal a web of crisscrossing lines, bruises and burn scars of all colours, snaking across her right forearm.

Lucius, always perceptive, didn't miss it. "What the hell is that, Black? What happened?"

"Nothing," she said icily, covering her injured arm with her sleeve and cradling it against her stomach.

"Did you let someone do that to you?" he asked almost derisively as the staircase locked into place on the wall.

Bellatrix looked at him with disdain over her shoulder before continuing her descent. "Do you really think I'd let someone get away with it?" She laughed mirthlessly and tossed her head. "I did this to myself, Malfoy."

Lucius put a heavy hand on her shoulder and stopped her. When their eyes met, his held no pity or concern, only cold curiosity. "What would you do that for?"

Bellatrix pushed his hand away and leaned back against the cold stone wall. "If you must know—" she lowered her voice, "…I was practicing the Cruciatus Curse." Her black eyes glittered with pride, mirroring the flickering candlelight.

Lucius raised a poised eyebrow. "On yourself?"

"Well, I'm not going to use it on someone else until I know I can manage it, am I?" She glanced down at her wrist and traced a red fingernail softly along one of the scars.

"But on yourself?"

The revelation that she was learning an Unforgivable Curse did not seem to faze him as much as the idea that she had purposefully injured herself. Bellatrix surveyed him silently, trying to gauge his expression. More than anything, he appeared to be hiding the fact that he was impressed. Satisfied, she said, "I didn't want to practice on someone else. I want to know that I can handle it myself."

They had reached a flat expanse of dripping, rough stone. Lucius frowned and said, "But why does that matter, Black?" He reached for the wall, beginning to speak the password, but Bellatrix put out a hand to stop him.

"If I'm going to use this on people," she said softly, her words like ice, "—and believe me, I intend to—then I need to be strong. You know the Dark Lord won't tolerate weakness. I have to have the strength, the control, the pure power to cast this curse." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist like talons, locking it in a surprisingly sharp grip. "And to have that power, I must be immune to it myself. I'll never have the strength to use the Cruciatus Curse if I'm too fragile to be on the receiving end."

She smiled, and Lucius shivered. Her hand on his wrist seemed to burn with tongues of flame. "Besides," she added casually, turning her other arm and offering the scars for inspection, "it's actually rather exhilarating." She examined the darkest scarlet mark with interest. "Being able to use that kind of raw magic on a human being? On _myself_?" She bit her lip. "You can't imagine how it feels, Lucius."

Days went by, and then weeks, and finally a month had passed. By the middle of November, Bellatrix was on edge at every moment of the day, waiting anxiously for some word of confirmation from Antonin, Rabastan, anyone. She snapped at her friends; only Rodolphus could handle being with her for any extended period of time.

Even her relationship with Rodolphus was beginning to crack beneath the tension. She had forgiven him for appearing to lack devotion to the Dark Lord, but she had not forgotten the incident. A nagging voice at the back of her mind constantly warned her that he might have lost the faith, and it took all of his willpower and most of hers to convince her that the voice was wrong. Everyone else who knew about their plans to join the Dark Lord was positive that Rodolphus was sincere, but that voice still whined at the edge of her consciousness.

Despite his reassurances, Bellatrix began to shift into her old ways. She toyed with men in ways she hadn't since her parents had begun hinting that Rodolphus would eventually marry her. Evan Rosier, shared grandparents be damned, developed a habit of following Bellatrix after each class in the hopes that she would pull him into an empty classroom (which she often did). Still needing more, she began commanding Daniel Avery to meet her in the Astronomy Tower late at night. She had discovered that, without complete confidence in Rodolphus' loyalty to their cause, he could not satisfy her desire. Being with him, touching the skin and the lips of a man whose allegiance was uncertain, felt dirty.

Rodolphus, strangely, seemed oblivious. Whether it was from sheer ignorance or intentional blindness, she didn't know, but he never spoke of it or appeared upset.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Alecto remarked to Bellatrix one day as they were leaving their Ancient Runes class. "Cheating on Rodolphus?"

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "I'm waiting for him to learn his lesson, that's all. If I can't trust him to be devoted, then he can't trust me to be faithful to him."

Alecto glanced around to make sure they were alone before replying, "For Merlin's sake, Bellatrix, he was a little slow on enthusiasm when you mentioned getting your Marks, that's all." Her voice hardened. "You're lucky enough to be getting them early… I don't think you have to be so hard on him."

"Right now it's a lack of enthusiasm. What will it be in a year? A lack of concern? Of allegiance? Will he betray us one day?"

"You're being irrational," Alecto sighed.

"Don't tell me I'm being irrational!" Bellatrix snapped. "This is the most important thing any of us will ever do! We can't afford risks. I can't afford to have Rodolphus bring me down."

"But cheating on him just to prove a point?"

Bellatrix shouldered her bag and stared at the other girl. Her dark eyes were cold and glimmering. "Carrow. You are stepping over some very heavy boundaries."

Alecto bit her lip and looked down at the ground. "I just think you're burning a bridge that you shouldn't."

"Your concern is duly noted," Bellatrix said acidly. "I'll be sure to bear that warning in mind the next time I—"

"Bellatrix?"

The two girls looked up sharply to find Evan Rosier leaning against the doorway, running a hand through his hair and clearly trying to appear suave. Alecto crossed her arms over her chest, but Bellatrix smirked and gave the boy a wink.

"Yes, Rosier?"

"Are you busy right now?"

She laughed softly, a low sound in the back of her throat, and beckoned to him with a slender finger. He moved across the classroom obediently, ignoring Alecto, and balanced elegantly on the edge of a desk. Bellatrix twisted her hand absentmindedly through his curls. She leaned forward, giving him a provocative view of her chest, and put her lips next to his ear. In a stage whisper, she said, "You know… if you're a good boy and do what I say, I'll be able to get you your Mark soon, too."

Rosier closed his eyes and nodded eagerly. He opened his mouth to reply, but Alecto cut him off. "So now you're promising favours, too?" she exclaimed. "You don't even have your own Mark yet!"

Bellatrix whipped around and glared at Alecto, fire burning in her eyes. "Shut up!" she spat. "You're just jealous!"

"Jealous of what? The fact that you're a bitch? You can't act like this. You're a disgrace to purebloods!"

Bellatrix's hand flew through the air and collided with Alecto's cheek with a satisfyingly loud smack. Alecto cradled her bruised cheek with her hand and stared up at Bellatrix with a shocked look. Breathing hard, the dark-haired girl smoothly pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the blonde. Her eyes were wild.

"If you ever," she hissed, " _if you ever_ dare to speak to me that way again, I'll make sure they're the last words you ever speak." She drove the tip of her wand into the red mark that was blossoming across Alecto's cheek, and the other girl winced. "I will not tolerate this kind of attitude, from you or from anyone else." She gave Rosier a pointed look, and he nodded vigourously. "This is why I can't trust people like you and Rodolphus." She removed the wand but kept it at the ready. "Get out of my sight, Carrow. I don't want to see you again today." From the depths of her fury, she pulled forth a condescending smile. "Do you understand?"

Alecto gave her a sour look and picked up her books, pushing past Rosier to exit the classroom. Bellatrix placed her wand carefully back into her robes and looked at him. He was beginning to get over her shock and was now looking up at her expectantly. She considered the possibility briefly, and then decided that her altercation with Alecto had left her on edge, too much so to be interested in the boy's lips at the moment.

"Not now, Rosier," she said impatiently. "Can't you see I've got other things to think about?"

With that, she pushed him aside and swept out of the classroom, her elegant black robes billowing out behind her.


	5. Have You Learned Your Lesson?

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

Bellatrix pushed aside the stone wall that hid the Slytherin dormitories and stormed into the common room, breathing hard. She sent a first year scurrying away with a single caustic glance and sat down in the armchair closest to the fire. Crossing her legs, she picked an invisible speck of lint from her skirt and stared broodingly into the flickering flames.

She couldn't fathom how Alecto could have dared to speak to her with such disrespect. She knew it was jealousy: jealousy over Bellatrix's affairs, jealousy over her favour in getting her Mark so early…

The Mark. Bellatrix smirked and leaned towards the fire as though sharing a secret. She rested her elbows on her knees and clasped her fingers pensively. Alecto would see the error of her ways once they had joined the Dark Lord. Bellatrix would be loyal, devoted beyond reason or rationality; she would be the favourite, and Alecto would be nothing. All the others, even Rodolphus, would be nothing compared to her. She would give herself to her Lord completely; she would truly be only his; all her skill and allegiance would be his to command—

"Bellatrix. We need to talk."

She remained motionless; her silence was rewarded with a sigh.

"Bellatrix, can we please talk?"

She glanced over her shoulder and stared at Rodolphus with disdain. Unlike most, he did not wither under her gaze, but managed to keep his face calm and collected. He moved around her chair and stood squarely in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest. His robes billowed out and shielded the firelight from her face. The flowing black cloth created a constantly morphing shadow across her features as the fire reappeared and was blocked. Light, dark, light, dark; she watched him with amusement, and her black eyes glittered.

"Listen," he began, "I know we've been rather distant the past few weeks. And that's my fault," he added quickly, seeing her expression shift, "because… I wasn't kind to you. But—" he took a deep breath, "—that doesn't give you the right to hurt me, Bellatrix."

She cocked an eyebrow and turned on the sickly sweet charm that she knew Rodolphus despised. "Doesn't it?"

"No," he replied boldly, "and I don't like it. Neither would your parents—who, you may recall, want you to marry me when we graduate—especially if they knew what you've been doing." He paused to let his words sink in, waiting for some sort of indignant reaction. Receiving none, he clarified, "With other men."

Bellatrix pursed her lips. She vaguely wondered if Alecto had told him in a pathetic attempt to exact revenge, or if one of her other lovers had been struck with a desire to confess his guilt. Either way, it didn't matter to her; she knew how to handle Rodolphus.

"Rodolphus," she said in a low voice, "you're right. There have been others." She stood suddenly, and he stepped away from her, taken aback. "And there will always be others," she continued, "as long as you are disloyal."

Rodolphus let out a loud bark of laughter, drawing brief attention from others in the common room. " _I'm_ the one who's disloyal. Bellatrix, please. Try to be rational."

She tossed her head. "I mean disloyal about our cause."

"Oh, Merlin, you're not still—"

"The Dark Lord," she hissed, an undertone of reverence in her bitter voice, "won't tolerate it, and neither will I!" She clenched her fists. Her scarlet nails dug into the flesh of her palms; she forced herself to keep pressing into the skin until her very bones hurt and the urge to scream had passed. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I needed to teach you a lesson, Rodolphus. If you're not faithful, you can't expect those around you to be faithful."

"But… sleeping with other men? Must you stoop so low?"

"I didn't _sleep_ with any of them, thank you very much. I'm of the House of Black. I have standards; I have class. And they are worthless."

Rodolphus closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Narcissa's a Black, and she's got just as much class as you, if not more. Why doesn't she cheat on Lucius? Why isn't she acting like you?"

"Because she doesn't understand, Rodolphus! She doesn't understand that she's got to live up to her name! I'm trying to forge the connections that you'll thank me for one day. Do you know how much the Dark Lord is—"

"Bellatrix." Rodolphus placed a brazen finger on her lips, and her eyes flashed. For a moment, he thought she might bite him. "Can we please talk about this somewhere else?"

"Fine," she snapped, and dragged him across the common room to the stairs on the left side. She pulled him up several flights and flung open the thick oaken door that led to the seventh year dormitory. "Out," she spat venomously to the tall, lanky Slytherin perched on his bed with a book. He glared, but obeyed, throwing Rodolphus a curious look on his way out. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Bellatrix flicked her wand towards the lock and muttered a spell under her breath. "May I continue?" she asked, making it clear that his permission was less than necessary.

"Be my guest," he replied, sitting on the edge of his own bed.

"The Dark Lord is looking for new recruits, and the sooner he can make them understand his cause, the more they can help him. That's why I'm valuable. I can reach students while they're still at school, before they get swept up in Dumbledore's nonsense and their parents' silly plans. Don't you see, Rodolphus? I _have_ to take this seriously." She exhaled slowly and walked towards the bed, staring down at him through a curtain of ebony hair. "I can't let you ruin this for me, Rodolphus. I need to know: have you learned your lesson?"

"But—"

" _Have you learned your lesson?_ " she hissed. She gripped his chin fiercely with bony, surprisingly strong fingers. When he refused to look at her, she pulled out her wand and placed the tip against his chest.

"I don't care how special you think you are, Bellatrix. You can't betray me and expect me to sit back and take it. Stop treating me like one of your tortured little pets." He stood sharply, and she let her grip on his chin fall from sheer surprise.

"I _am_ special," she countered, glaring at him coldly, "and you're jealous, just like all the others." There was a moment of silence, and then her features shifted to a strange, insincere sweetness. "Frankly," she said nonchalantly, "I can understand your jealousy. You, Malfoy, Carrow… all of you. You're jealous that the Dark Lord is favouring me when I'm not even an official follower. Yet."

Rodolphus' face remained impassive. "I don't think you realize how stupid you sound."

Bellatrix's eyes widened, and she lifted her wand towards him. He grabbed her wrist and forced her hand away. "Don't, Bellatrix," he warned, "I'm not one of your little toys like Rosier or Avery. You may think no one measures up to you, but you're wrong. And one day, someone will stand up to you—just like I am right now—and you'll get hurt."

She said nothing. Her eyes glinted madly, and her pale, creamy chest heaved distractingly over the edge of her top as she breathed heavily.

"I think you should leave now," he said.

"You can't make me."

"I won't be scared of you anymore, Bellatrix. If you still want to be with me, some things are going to have to change."

She smirked, and ran a finger up his arm. "Maybe I like this stronger Rodolphus… it's impressive."

"Stop it. Leave."

Bellatrix stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his rough, stubbled cheek. The kiss left a faint red circle on his skin. He turned his face away.

"Fine," she conceded, "but don't expect to see me for the rest of the night."

"Somehow I'll get by."

Bellatrix frowned, biting her lip as her brow furrowed. She turned on her heel and left, flicking her wand angrily at the door so that it swung open to meet her. As she exited, she glanced over her shoulder. Rodolphus stood with his back to her, staring out the window. He was tapping one foot and biting his nails absentmindedly.

Bellatrix smirked and closed the door softly behind her.

* * *

For the next few days, none of the Slytherins were quite sure as to whether Bellatrix and Rodolphus were still together. Even the couple's closest companions were in the dark, as neither party was willing to discuss the matter. They weren't speaking to each other, that much was certain; still, the idea that the Black-Lestrange power couple might have crumbled seemed somehow impossible.

Rodolphus was moody and morose all the time, and Bellatrix was more hot-tempered than before. She'd slapped Narcissa when the younger girl had tried to bring up Rodolphus. Narcissa wrote a tearful letter to their mother, which resulted in a stream of Howlers that Bellatrix burned one by one, ignoring the irate shrieks from the flames.

It had been about two weeks since the incident. Late at night, Bellatrix crept downstairs to the Common Room, a telltale scarlet envelope in her hand. Not caring that her housemates were sleeping peacefully, she pointed her wand at the dying embers in the fireplace and prepared to burn the latest Howler. Was this the eleventh, or the twelfth? Possibly more… she had lost track of quantifying her parents' anger. She knelt on the carpet and dangled the letter over the now crackling flames.

"That's going to wake up the whole House," came a low voice behind her.

Without turning around, Bellatrix tucked the letter into her satin green bathrobe and stood slowly. "And you care because…?"

"Because, Black," replied the silky voice, "I'm trying to get some sleep."

With that voice, it could be no one else. She stood in front of the fire, staring silently into the flames, and crossed her arms over her chest. The heat from the fire brought a glowing blush to her cheeks. "What do you want, Severus?"

He stepped forward from the dark, the flickering firelight throwing his features into sharp relief. His nose cast a shadow that obscured half his face. "Well," he said, a touch of condescension in his voice, "first, I wanted to point out something I observed."

"Yes?" she said icily.

"Your robe is smoking."

She looked down to see that there was indeed a thin trail of grey smoke rising from her bathrobe. She quickly pulled out the letter and watched with horror as the line of smoke grew thicker. "Snape!" she hissed, her eyes wide.

He shrugged, and the envelope burst into flames. Bellatrix yelped and dropped it on the carpet, kicking it into the fire. She gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the screams of her mother, but just as the first shriek pierced the silence, Severus pointed his wand at the fire and muttered, " _Muffliato_."

Bellatrix could only watch in astonishment as the letter, still screeching in the fire, carried out its shrill deed in silence. She stared at Severus as the red envelope twisted and burned in the flames before turning to ash. "What did you—?"

"I silenced it, obviously." He pocketed his wand and sat down on the edge of a chair, looking pleased with himself.

"But Silencing Charms don't work on Howlers."

"Mine does." He ran a hand through his greasy hair. "I invented it myself."

"Fascinating," she said unconcernedly, but inside her mind was racing. Someone with the talent to create their own spells where others had failed would surely be of use to the Dark Lord. And the rewards he would give her if, as her first act of allegiance, she brought him such a wizard…

"Severus," Bellatrix said, perching on the edge of his chair and placing a hand on his shoulder, "why did you come down here?"

He looked up at her, then at her hand resting on his shoulder, and coughed meaningfully. She ignored it and gave him at encouraging look.

"I couldn't sleep," he answered finally. "I thought I'd do some reading down here."

"Here?"

"The other boys don't like it. The light keeps them awake. Although," he smirked, "not as much as a Howler would."

"If you're reading, then where's your book?" she challenged triumphantly.

Severus pursed his lips, and his face tightened. He stared intently into the fire.

Bellatrix took a deep breath. If he wouldn't speak to her, she'd never get him to join her. She adopted a more flattering tone. "All right, Severus. I won't pry." She caressed his cheek with pale fingers. "But listen—"

"Don't toy with me, Bellatrix; I'm not Rodolphus."

She dug her nails into the fragile skin of his neck, barely able to contain her fury. She gritted her teeth and tried to remain calm. Slowly, bitingly, she hissed, "I would appreciate it if you refrained from mentioning his name in my presence."

"Fine. I don't give a damn about your squabbles." There was a hint of derision in his tone. He was baiting her, she knew; he was purposefully trying to make her angry. Well, she would prove that she could keep her temper.

"You're right, Severus. Our fights are silly." She tried to keep the sarcasm in her voice to a minimum. "I have more important things to worry about." She gave his shoulder a meaningful squeeze. "Things that you could be a part of."

He stiffened. His dark eyes gleamed in the firelight, but he remained silent.

Bellatrix pressed on. "You remember what I said before, about you having potential? It's true." She couldn't mask the lingering curiosity. "How many other spells have you created?"

"Plenty." There it was, that hidden pride that she'd been seeking. He could hide it no longer. "And potions, too."

She stood and faced him squarely. "I can bring you honour beyond your wildest dreams for your skills. I can lead you down paths you never knew existed." Her black eyes sparkled. "You and I will know Dark magic others can only dream of, Severus."

"And the Dark Lord?"

"Shall treasure you second only to me," she whispered.

He leaned forward in his chair, and she resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. "Take me to him," he said softly. "Take me to him."

Bellatrix smiled triumphantly. The Dark lord would be pleased. "I can't take you yet, you know," she said sweetly. "I'm getting my Mark in a few weeks, but I can't simply come waltzing in with every moderately skilled wizard I find. It's up to the Dark Lord to decide if you're truly worthy." She locked eyes with him and held his gaze. "I won't make the same mistakes again, Severus. I need to know if you're truly _devoted_."

Severus nodded vigourously. "I am, Bellatrix. You know I am."

She shrugged. "It's not entirely up to me. The Dark Lord will be able to see if you're faithful."

"But when?" he pressed.

She stifled a yawn and glanced towards the fire. It was beginning to die from its earlier roaring flames to a dim orange glow. "It's getting late. I think I'll go back to bed."

"But—"

"Not now, Severus," she interrupted impatiently. "I want to go to sleep." She pulled her robe tighter and crossed her arms over her chest. "But you should think about what I've said. You won't get another offer like it." She glanced at the fire, watching the smoke curl upwards from the dying flames. "I'll see you in the morning. And Severus?"

He looked up at her quickly.

Bellatrix bit her lip and smiled. "Be a darling and don't tell anyone about this, hm? It'll be our little secret. Our little surprise for all the others."

He nodded.

Bellatrix nodded in return and moved swiftly up the stairs. She slipped silently into her dorm and sat on her bed, and then touched her wand to the candle at her bedside. With a quick muttered charm, a tiny yellow flame sprang up and began to glow over the parchment and quill on the table. She picked up the quill and held it poised over the parchment, biting the end of it thoughtfully, and then began writing.

 _Antonin-_

 _There's a private matter I need to discuss with you. Meet me at the edge of the Forbidden Forest Wednesday night at midnight._

 _Bring Rabastan with you._

 _-Bellatrix_


	6. You Can Have Your Toys

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

Wednesday morning dawned dreary and wet, and still Bellatrix was not speaking to Rodolphus. The Christmas holidays were only a week away, and every day that it drew nearer she became more tense. Soon she would have her Mark; soon she would be bound by blood to the Dark Lord; soon she could exercise her true potential…

But Rodolphus was the dark cloud over the entire exciting prospect. All her plans for the holidays had revolved around him, but now… Truth be told, she was the one who was maintaining the silence between them. Every so often, he would catch her eye, looking like he was about to speak, but Bellatrix would stare back coldly and he would look away. She wasn't even sure if she would be going to the Lestrange estate over Christmas anymore. That was one of the reasons that she had told Antonin to bring Rabastan, Rodolphus' older brother. She needed to make sure she didn't lose her chance to join the Dark Lord.

"Miss Black." Professor McGonagall's sharp voice cut through her thoughts. She was snapping her fingers in front of Bellatrix's face. "Is a little focus too much to ask?"

Bellatrix snorted derisively and sat up further in her chair, looking as prim and proper as she could. McGonagall muttered something about insolence and went back to teaching.

It went on like this all day as Bellatrix became increasingly distracted. By dinnertime, she was checking her watch almost every minute, and her agitation did not go unnoticed.

"Bellatrix, are you all right?" Lucius asked after her rapidly drumming fingers almost knocked over his pumpkin juice.

"I'm fine," she snapped. From several seats down, Rodolphus looked at her. She glared back.

Narcissa caught the shared look. She lifted her head from Lucius' shoulder and said, "Bellatrix, even if you haven't read any of the letters, you know Mum and Father are upset that you're… you know… not speaking to—"

"I don't care."

"But this is the plan they've had for you for years. You can't just suddenly decide that you're not going to be with him. You're meant to marry him. They won't let you do anything else."

Bellatrix put down her knife and gave her sister a scathing look. "You honestly think," she said caustically, "that I won't marry him after all this?" She tossed her head. "I know what my duty is as a pureblood witch. But that doesn't mean that I have to like it." She stood, shaking the table slightly, and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Midnight was fast approaching, and she could barely breathe.

As she reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Bellatrix took a furtive glance around and laid the tip of her wand against her head, removing the Disillusionment Charm. She leaned back against a tree, breathing heavily from her run out of the castle, and checked her watch. 11:58. The two older boys would be arriving any minute. A cool wind picked up, ruffling her hair, and her skin tingled deliciously in anticipation. Shivering, she whispered, "Lumos," and brought a tiny point of light to life at the end of her wand.

Almost as if in answer to her excited quiver, there were two loud crunching sounds to her left. Bellatrix whipped her head around so quickly that she felt her neck snap.

"Bellatrix," Dolohov said courteously, dipping his head in greeting. She nodded back and looked him over. He looked thinner than when she had seen him last, and the shadows under his eyes were darker.

The man beside Dolohov stepped out from the shadows into the feeble glow from Bellatrix's wand. Though he was the same age as his companion, he looked significantly older, yet he was still unmistakably a Lestrange. His dark hair fell across tired eyes, and he was shockingly gaunt. His eyes, like Rodolphus', were dark; they roved over her body and settled, unlike most men's, on her face.

"Bellatrix," he said in a low, rough voice. There was a darkness in his tone that she had never heard in Rodolphus'. The simple truth was that Rabastan, despite his thinner frame, was stronger than the younger Lestrange would ever be. Bellatrix often wondered why the Blacks and the Lestranges had not arranged for her to marry the first brother.

"Rabastan," she replied slowly, "it's a pleasure to see you again."

He seemed to be waiting for something, a curtsey or other gesture of respect, but she communicated her refusal to comply with a cold look. He shrugged slightly and did not hesitate. "Rodolphus tells me there's been trouble between you two."

"What of it?" Bellatrix replied coolly.

"You can't do that. You have to stop ignoring him. I won't have you disrespecting my family, and I _won't_ have you jeopardizing our status."

She examined her nails without interest. "How like Rodolphus, to go running to you for help. Isn't that an important skill for one in his position in society? To be able to handle a woman?" She laughed darkly. "Wittle baby Rodolphus can't take care of himself?"

"Rodolphus has the right to a woman who knows her place."

"And I have the right to my freedom."

Rabastan grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. His eyes were hardened and unfathomable. "You can have your toys, Bellatrix." He smirked and added, "Rest assured that Rodolphus will have his. But what you have yet to learn is that you cannot let the problems in your marital bed spill over into the public eye."

She quirked an eyebrow at this phrase. Even Dolohov seemed taken aback; he shrugged and said, "Marital bed, Rab? I'm not sure that quite applies yet."

Rabastan's eyes flickered over to his friend, and then returned to Bellatrix. His gaze remained fixed as he replied, "Nevertheless, a certain amount of respect in society is necessary, even if it does not extend to one's private life. I do not for one moment expect you two to be entirely faithful to each other. I only urge you to present the proper face to society."

Bellatrix frowned. "Rabastan, you used to be so nice to me. What's happened to you?"

He let go of her shoulders and gave her a half-smile, but his heart was not in it. "Antonin told me you were practically a fanatic about our cause. Where's that spark, that drive? All I see is a whining little girl."

"I have it!" she persisted hotly, taking a defiant step forward. "I want to devote myself to the Dark Lord. I can prove myself to him, I'm faithful—"

"Bellatrix, you sound like a child," Dolohov said scornfully. "We know you're devoted; you've made that much clear. That's not the issue."

"What do you think will happen to the cause when we're not here?" Rabastan pressed. "We could be killed serving the Dark Lord. Greater followers than you have died, Bellatrix."

Dolohov paled slightly as he nodded in agreement.

"And?" Bellatrix scoffed. "Do you think that I'm afraid to serve him?"

"No," Rabastan answered, "but I do think that you haven't realized just how much your life will be dedicated to him. Your marriage, your friends, every connection you make will be in some way a service to the Dark Lord. When you're gone, when my brother's gone, when Antonin and I are gone… our children will be the ones to carry on the torch."

She bit her lip and glared at him. "You're saying that I need to bear sons for the Dark Lord like a good—"

"—Like a good pureblood woman, Bellatrix. And if you and Rodolphus are fighting, that won't happen."

Bellatrix was infuriated. Rabastan was speaking to her as though she were a little girl who needed to be taught her duty. She was no child; she was Bellatrix Black. She was stronger than him, stronger than anyone, and she could prove it. She would never be the housewife in the shadows that her mother was, that her sister would one day be. She was born to be different.

"I will never be as weak as Rodolphus," Bellatrix hissed slowly, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two men. She drew herself up to her full height and continued, "But I know my duty. Don't treat me like a child, or like one of your _pathetic_ pureblood women. My blood makes me as worthy as you. I am your equal, and one day I will be your better. You will find no mindless follower in me."

Dolohov smiled toothily and inclined his head slightly towards her. "Brave words from a young lass, eh?" He winked at his friend.

Rabastan's half-smile extended to an almost sincere grin. "She's not as young as you made her sound, Antonin. She's more ready than I thought." Dolohov shrugged, earning a glare from Bellatrix.

"Does this mean I still get my Mark at Christmas?" she asked impatiently.

"Does this mean that you will stop ignoring my younger brother and accept your place in our society?" Rabastan countered without hesitation.

Bellatrix closed her eyes and nodded. She heaved a sigh, and through her eyelashes saw Dolohov's gaze become momentarily distracted a few inches below her neck. She chanced a glance at the other man. Unlike his friend, Rabastan was staring straight into her eyes, patiently awaiting something.

"I want to hear you say it," he said in a low voice. "You worry so much about jeopardizing the _cause_. Tell me that you're doing your part to save it."

"I _am_ ," she answered harshly. "But I don't see how it can help anything if I'm wasting my time with someone who doesn't care about what we believe in, Rabastan."

He shook his head, smirking slightly. "He cares, Bellatrix. He's just tired of trying to prove it to someone for whom proof will never suffice." Suddenly, his dark eyes widened, and he let out a hiss of pain. He gripped his left forearm and swallowed hard. "I have to go," he said through gritted teeth.

Bellatrix was enthralled. "He's calling you?" she breathed. Rabastan nodded and looked at Dolohov, who shrugged and shook his head. Bellatrix reached out a shaking hand and lifted his sleeve. There, embedded in his skin, was the image of a curling black snake that wound itself through the mouth of a crudely shaped skull. The snake twisted across his skin as the entire tattoo pulsated with a life of its own. She held his wrist gently, inspecting the image with reverence.

"Do you mind?" Rabastan spat. Bellatrix ignored him, bending closer to the throbbing Mark. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his arm, surprised to feel how his skin burned in the cold night. She heard a sharp intake of breath and pulled away slowly, letting his wrist fall from her grasp.

"Go," she whispered, gazing longingly at the half-exposed snake that seemed to crawl from underneath his sleeve. Rabastan flicked his wand in his other hand, and with a small _pop_ , disappeared.

Bellatrix was still staring at the spot he had left from when Dolohov snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Try to control yourself, Black," he snorted derisively. "You don't have to go into orgasmic rapture every time you see one."

She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips. "Why didn't he call for you, Antonin?" she mocked. "Not special enough?"

"You'll soon learn that being called by the Dark Lord is by no means a sign that you are in his favour," Dolohov warned. "I'd advise you to stop your little games and grow up, or your initiation will be hell."

The word caught her interest. Bellatrix tilted her head to one side and gazed up at Dolohov. She took a step forward and repeated, "Initiation?"

He looked down at her. Her proximity seemed to make him nervous. "Of course," he replied. "Everyone must go through a personal initiation with the Dark Lord."

"And… what exactly does that entail?"

Dolohov shook his head.

Bellatrix leaned closer, pressing her chest against his. His breath caught in his throat, and he stepped backwards. She followed him with her body, gently pinning him against a tree. Her eyes glimmered in the light that glowed from the castle in the distance.

"Bellatrix—"

"Antonin," she interrupted softly. "What is the initiation like?"

He swallowed hard and answered, "Well, first he asks you a few questions in front of everyone. As long as you give the right answers, that part's easy. But he'll know if you're lying."

For a moment, Bellatrix's seductive tone faded. "He will?" she asked, fascinated.

"Yes."

"And then?"

Dolohov took a deep breath. "Well, the next part's… much more secret. I really shouldn't tell you."

Bellatrix traced her hand up his neck and wound her fingers into his hair. He leaned his head back, and she stood on her toes to murmur in his ear, "You really should, Antonin."

He closed his eyes. "Bellatrix, stop it—"

"You don't mean that," she whispered, pressing her lips to his neck.

He placed a hand between their bodies and made a half-hearted attempt to push her away, but she ignored it. She bit gently at his jawline before kissing the rough stubble of his cheek.

"Didn't we just have a talk about you and Rodolphus?" he said in a low, hoarse voice.

Bellatrix gripped the back of his neck. "Yes, we did. About how I don't have to be faithful to him." She twisted her leg gracefully around his. "And now we're through talking about him." Boldly, she traced her tongue across Dolohov's lower lip. "Now," she continued softly, her mouth still barely touching his, "what was that about the second part of the initiation?"

"I… I really shouldn't," Dolohov said unconvincingly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She bit his lip then, tearing at the delicate skin and drawing blood. She closed her eyes and let the metallic taste sting the tip of her tongue as she commanded in a breathy whisper, " _Tell me._ "

He winced as he ran his own tongue over the cut on his lip. "Well… the second part is different for everyone. But he'll want to test you in private."

"How?"

"For you, it depends on what potential he sees in you. For me… he wanted me to torture people who didn't support the cause."

Bellatrix leaned towards Dolohov, her lips barely touching his. "Antonin," she breathed, her chest rising and falling against his, "what did he do to you?"

"I really can't talk about it."

She let her hand slide down his chest and underneath his shirt. Her nails grazed the sensitive skin above his belt, and he shuddered. She let one finger slip beneath his belt, tugging his hips towards hers.

"Bellatrix, I swear," Dolohov groaned, "this is something I can't tell you. I swore I wouldn't."

She kissed him fiercely, and he responded instantly, seizing the back of her head with a forceful hand. He tried to slip his tongue into her mouth, but she forced it aside with her own and dug her nails into his chest.

"If you won't tell me," she whispered between feverish kisses, "we won't be able to keep going."

Dolohov hesitated a moment, and then began, "You can't tell anyone I told you this—"

Bellatrix pushed him sharply and stepped backwards. He touched a hand to the back of his head where she'd slammed him into the tree and winced. "What the hell was that?"

She glared at him, her red lips twisted in a smirk. "Did you think I actually wanted you?" She laughed coldly. "I can't believe you would have broken a sacred promise to the Dark Lord."

"You little—"

"Bitch?" she finished for him sarcastically. "Creative, Antonin. Did you come up with that all by yourself?" She shook her head in disgust. "You sicken me."

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and then spat on the cold ground at her feet. She gasped and reached for her wand, but before she could retaliate he had Disapparated.

"Coward," she muttered, and turned back towards the castle.


	7. Not Yet a True Death Eater

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

Bellatrix, despite her placating words to Rabastan, waited until the last possible moment to speak to Rodolphus. Three days before the Hogwarts Express was due to take students home for Christmas holidays, she approached him as he was about the enter the Slytherin common room.

"Rodolphus," she called quietly, trying not to attract the attention of their fellow students. A few curious boys did a double-take, and one confident fourth year girl went so far as to pause mid-stride and stare openly at Bellatrix as though she had sprouted a second nose. Bellatrix took a menacing step forward, casting a glare around the corridor, and the younger students scurried away in fear.

Rodolphus stood by the rusticated stone wall, motionless and incredulous. "I'm sorry," he finally said in a sarcastic tone, "do I know you?"

"Darling, please don't be stupid," Bellatrix sighed, inspecting her manicure.

He laughed coldly. "Darling. Don't give me that, _sweetheart_." He crossed the hallway in a few short steps and planted his feet firmly in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. "You haven't acknowledged my presence on this earth in almost a month."

"You were being an idiot," she replied simply. "I wasn't going to put up with you."

He looked away, gritting his teeth in frustration. After a few deep breaths, he turned back to her and slowly said, "Bellatrix. Listen to me. We were both idiots, all right? I provoked you; I shouldn't have done that. But you've been holding this grudge for far too long."

Bellatrix's jaw dropped. "Don't you dare say this was my fault. You weren't… worthy of me anymore. You weren't worthy of what we're about to do."

" _For fuck's sake, Bellatrix_!" he shouted, and then froze. They both stood in silence, jaws clenched and fists shaking in rage. She was staring at him, unable to speak or move. Never, in all their years of betrothal or dating, had he cursed at her. Not a single foul word had passed his lips in her direction, despite all their arguments. He had been brought up to abhor the idea of using rude language in the presence of a woman, especially one such as Bellatrix Black. He had lost his temper; more importantly, for a moment he had lost sight of who he was, and who the Lestranges were.

What concerned Bellatrix the most, however, was that he had forgotten who she was. "How dare you be so vulgar?" she fumed. "If Rabastan wasn't making me speak to you—"

"Rabastan?" Rodolphus was instantly distracted. "He wrote to you?"

"I told him to come see me."

"When was this?"

Bellatrix tossed her hair, a satisfied smirk twisting across her lips. She had regained control. "It didn't concern you."

Rodolphus put a hand on her shoulder, digging his fingers into her skin more than was necessary. "Clearly, it did concern me," he corrected, "if he told you to get back together with me." As he said the words aloud, his brow furrowed and the look in his eyes shifted to one of uncertainty. "He _told_ you to get back together with me," he repeated. "You're not even doing this of your own accord?"

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tried to pry his hand from her shoulder, but his grip was too tight. "Rodolphus." He glared at her, and she growled again, " _Rodolphus._ You're hurting me. Let go."

Smirking in an uncanny impression of Bellatrix, he answered, "Not until you tell me if you really want to be with me."

She sighed in exasperation and hissed, "I'll never be the soft-hearted romantic that Narcissa is, all right? If that's what you signed up for, you're going to be disappointed." She paused, staring up at the ceiling, and took a sharp, frustrated breath. "I won't be with you just because someone told me to. I want to be with you, Rodolphus, but not as a girl that you can control and order around. I am my own person, and you'd do well to remember that."

Rodolphus slowly smiled. "That's my Bellatrix," he said, squeezing her shoulder gently.

She slapped his hand away with such abruptness that his grip was loosened. "I'm not _your_ Bellatrix," she said acidly.

He bit his lip and nodded. "Of course." He bent and kissed her cheek chastely, his lips lingering by her ear. She felt his hot breath against her skin as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She looked up at him from beneath dark lashes and slid her hand up his chest. She grasped his silver and green tie and pulled his face town to hers, kissing him slowly. He was hesitant at first; his lips moved against hers with the uncertainty of their first kiss. Soon, however, she tugged impatiently on his tie, and he was quick to match her aggression.

After a minute, Rodolphus pulled away. Bellatrix cocked one eyebrow and waited for him to speak.

"I want you to know," he finally said, tilting her chin up so that he could look her in the eye, "that Rabastan sent me a letter this morning." He glanced around the empty corridor before continuing, "He's asked the Dark Lord to meet us."

Bellatrix's eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth. Her fingers trembled as she asked, "And will he?"

Rodolphus grinned and kissed her. "He will," he whispered, taking her left hand in his. He slid his fingers up her sleeve and traced the tender skin of her forearm. Bellatrix shivered under his touch.

"I love you," she breathed. It was not the first time she'd said those three words to Rodolphus, but it was the first time in weeks, and something felt different about it this time. Perhaps it was because it was the closest she'd ever come to truly meaning it, and he was well aware of this.

"I love you, too," he said quietly, resting his chin on the top of her head and pulling her close against his chest.

Bellatrix stood in silence, and then squirmed slightly and pulled away. "Don't use foul language around women," she said haughtily. Her hand lingered on his arm for a moment, and then she swept away down the corridor.

* * *

Lestrange Estate appeared even more ornate than Bellatrix had remembered, but perhaps that was because Mrs. Lestrange had already ordered the house elves to decorate the mansion for the annual Christmas party. The bare-branched trees glittered with lights that reflected off of the thin, crisp layer of snow that covered the wide lawn. Thick garlands hung from the iron fence and framed the impressive doorway; imposing statues squirmed in their bonds of tinsel, looking vexed. A twelve-foot Christmas tree towered over the front parlour, hundreds of shining baubles tinkling softly from its branches.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus had been home from school for several days. Bellatrix was in a guest bedroom, painting her nails, when a tentative knock came on her door.

"Come in," she said airily, finishing the last stroke of polish on her thumb. The door creaked open to reveal a wrinkled old house elf with a faded rag tied around his scrawny waist. He was twisting his fingers together nervously, winding and unwinding a bandage around his wrist as he shifted from one foot to the other. Bellatrix's former civility vanished. "Speak up, vermin," she spat. "What is it?"

"Miss Black," the creature whispered, "her ladyship wishes to see you in the library."

'Her ladyship', of course, was Mrs. Lestrange. Although of no real nobility, she and her husband insisted that all their servants refer to them by such deferential names. It was a practice that had died out in many of the ancient families, but it pleased Bellatrix that she and Rodolphus would be inheriting house elves who still answered to the old ways.

"Then I shall see her," Bellatrix said impatiently. "Why must you act so anxious?"

"Oh, Miss—he is there as well—with frightening snake on his arm—"

"Who?" she demanded, her eyes widening in anticipation. "Who is here with a snake on his arm?"

"The other young Master—"

Bellatrix stood from her stool and kicked the house elf aside, ignoring his howls of pain. She descended the steps hurriedly and strode across the front hall. She paused in front of the library door to smooth her hair before turning the handle and pushing the door open.

"Bellatrix," came a cool, female voice. "I trust you've met my elder son, Rabastan."

Bellatrix stepped into the room. A woman was reclining on a dark red chaise longue in the center of the library. Her blonde hair, swept up in an elegant French twist, was beginning to grey, but her dark eyes were still piercing as they held Bellatrix's gaze. She kept a loose grip on a book with one hand while waving the other towards the far corner of the room. Bellatrix took another step forward and dipped her head respectfully to the woman before looking in the direction that she had indicated. Rabastan stood in the corner, the finely carved bookcase beside him casting strange shadows across his sharp features. He nodded at Bellatrix and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned nonchalantly against the wall.

"We've met, Mother," Rabastan said softly, his eyes never leaving Bellatrix. His stare made her uncomfortable, and she tore her gaze away to look back at the woman on the chaise.

Alcyone Lestrange beckoned Bellatrix towards her and gestured to another chair. Bellatrix sat down and glanced cautiously between mother and son.

"Rabastan tells me that you have a special interest in our Christmas party this year," Alcyone began, her tone deceptively light. "Namely, some of our guests."

Bellatrix nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.

Alcyone continued, "We've already spoken to Rodolphus about this."

Bellatrix's eyes flashed. They had spoken to Rodolphus before her. They considered his involvement with the Dark Lord more important than hers. They believed he cared more than she did. Mindful of her future mother-in-law's presence, she suppressed the desire to claw Rabastan's eyes out and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white, and quietly replied through clenched teeth, "I assure you, this is as important, if not more important, to me."

Rabastan grinned toothily, his teeth glinting from the dark corner. "We know, Bellatrix. I've heard your frantic tirades of allegiance. I would ask that you please refrain from such outbursts at the party. The time will come for you to pledge your loyalty."

Alcyone shifted on her chaise so that she was sitting up and adjusted her robes. "I don't pretend to be naïve about what your generation is doing, Bellatrix." She pulled back her left sleeve to reveal a pale, creamy forearm that was unblemished. "I may not bear the Mark that my husband and son do, but I know what they fight for and I support them. Your mother, Druella, and many other women of my class will ignore what they know to be true, though they support the same ideals." Her eyes glittered in a manner not unlike Bellatrix's. "I, on the other hand, am proud of what _my_ sons are doing for the cause."

The taunt did not go unnoticed. Every pureblood family of worth knew that Druella and Cygnus Black's greatest shame was their inability to produce male heirs. Bellatrix pitied her parents, but fervently hoped that their propensity for having daughters would not be passed on to her. She chose her words carefully. "My hope, Mrs. Lestrange, is that you will be as proud of your grandsons as you are of your sons."

Alcyone nodded and relaxed back into her chaise. "Rabastan will speak to you in more detail, as he knows more about what you will need to do. I simply want you to know that I know what you are doing, and that you have my complete support. This Christmas ball is as much an opportunity for you and Rodolphus as it is a social gathering."

Bellatrix stood and glanced at Rabastan briefly before turning back to Alcyone. "Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange. It's an honour to have your support in this endeavour."

Rabastan came out of the shadows, his head bowed, and offered his left arm to Bellatrix. She placed her hand gently on the proffered arm, mindful of the sensitive Mark that she knew lay buried beneath the sleeve. He led her from the library as Alcyone returned to her book.

Once in the parlour, he directed her towards a chair and came to stand in front of her. He planted his feet firmly on the floor and clasped his hands behind his back. She crossed her legs and leaned one elbow on the arm of the chair, placing her cheek against her hand, and waited for him to speak. He tilted his head slightly to the side, and with his face suddenly in the light, she could see a thin scratch on his cheek, still caked with dried blood.

"What happened to your cheek?" Bellatrix asked with no real concern.

Rabastan replied shortly, "There was an incident. If you join us, you'll have to accept that they same will likely happen to you."

"I will gladly bear any scar for the cause," she fired back. "Fear will never be an issue."

He raised one eyebrow and smiled. "Neither will dedication, I take it. That was a clever comment to my mother about her future grandsons. It's reassuring to see that you've decided that my brother serves for more than sex." Rabastan smirked and added, "Oh, that's right. You two don't have sex, do you?"

Bellatrix had the grace to blush. "Rabastan. _Please_. You're the one who's always worried about presenting the proper face to the world. Shouldn't you have a little more propriety?"

"Not when it affects me," he returned. "I apologize for being blunt, but it has to be said. If you're… _occupied_ with Rodolphus, you're not distracted by other men. Men like Antonin Dolohov."

Her nostrils flared slightly, and her eyes hardened. "I am not _distracted_ by Antonin," she said coldly. The fact that Antonin had told Rabastan about their almost-tryst in the Forbidden Forest bothered her; then again, he had made it quite clear that he was not one for keeping secrets. "There is nothing between us," she said firmly. "Besides, I recall you saying something about accepting that Rodolphus and I would be unfaithful to each other."

"Not if it distracts either of you from your work for the Dark Lord," Rabastan warned in a voice that seemed to be holding back barely concealed rage. "And I don't want you distracting Antonin, either." He began pacing back and forth across the room. "Listen. Did you know Aura Yaxley while you were at school?"

Bellatrix nodded. The girl had been a few years older than her; she was known for being loose, but memorable for little else.

Rabastan continued, "The Dark Lord tortured her last year because she was sleeping with Lucius Malfoy's older brother." He paused in his march and turned to stare at Bellatrix. "They were _distracted_ by the affair and got clumsy in their work. Eventually, their lack of focus would have hurt the Dark Lord, and he knew it. They were both tortured. Brutally. Have you ever felt the Cruciatus Curse, Bellatrix?"

She swallowed hard, feeling the old scars on her right arm throb. "No. But Rabastan—"

"I said _listen_. Aura Yaxley is hanging onto her sanity by a thread. She's been bedridden for months; she broke her own wand to splinters and tried to kill herself with them. She'd be better off dead. Malfoy… well, he's stronger; he fared better. The Dark Lord banished him for a year. Put a Fidelius Charm on all his information—which, by the way, is incredibly taxing for any wizard less powerful than the Dark Lord—and made himself Secret Keeper. Malfoy's off in Hogsmeade or some such place, biding his time. I heard he's been trying to gather information to present when he's allowed back in. Trying to get back in the Dark Lord's good graces." He gave Bellatrix a hard look. "The Dark Lord doesn't have good graces, Bellatrix. He either tolerates you, or disposes of you."

Bellatrix had been fidgeting in her seat through Rabastan's speech. Finally, she stood up. "That's fascinating, Rabastan," she said sarcastically, "but it's irrelevant. I'm not distracted. Antonin's the one you should be worried about; he was willing to give me information for a quick one-night stand."

Rabastan laughed darkly. "I know. It would have been useless information, but the inclination to betray is there nonetheless. He is not yet a true Death Eater."

It was the first time Bellatrix had heard this phrase, these two words that would be both her making and her undoing. Even then, before she truly knew their meaning, she felt their weight in her heart. They floated across the air from Rabastan's lips; they reached her ears and made them tingle. She suddenly shivered. "Death… Eater?" she repeated.

He smirked. "Merlin, Bellatrix, the things you don't even _know_ …." He stepped towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder, and pushed her gently back into her chair. "Death Eaters are the Dark Lord's followers, those who truly believe in and do his work. They are his closest associates and his most valued supporters. A number of them will be at Mother's Christmas party in a few days; you'll be meeting them then."

"And Rodolphus?"

"He'll be on the same level you are," Rabastan laughed, "so there's no need to be jealous. Your initiations will be separate, however."

Bellatrix instantly said, "I want to be first."

Rabastan shook his head. "It's up to the Dark Lord. You'll have to ask him." He laughed again. "Although I wouldn't suggest that tactic."

She stood again, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is that all, Rabastan? I have things to do."

He frowned, but moved aside to let her pass. Feeling a draught, she tightened her arms, pushing her chest over the top of her black lace top. Rabastan's eyes almost drifted, but he caught himself and looked intently at the window instead.

She chuckled softly. "Oh, Rabastan… you'd better heed your own advice. Don't get distracted."

He grabbed her arm in a viselike grip, his eyes boring into hers. "Pull a move like that at the party," he warned in a deadly whisper, "and you can forget about meeting the Dark Lord."

Bellatrix wrenched her arm from his grasp and pursed her lips as he strode angrily out of the parlour. The Dark Lord would see the value of her femininity; she knew he simply had to. If she could coax information out of Antonin Dolohov with a few kisses, she could be invaluable in fighting for the Death Eaters. The thought of working alongside them sent shivers up her spine.

" _Death Eaters_ ," she breathed aloud, feeling the words burn on her lips. She vowed then and there that she would become the best among them. Smiling to herself, she walked across the room and came to stand at the foot of the enormous Christmas tree. She traced one of the delicate glass ornaments with a careful finger. It brushed another ornament and tinkled softly. She silenced both and examined another, a flat crystal oval cut with intricate designs that glittered with every movement. Shimmering, iridescent words were etched into its surface, changing magically every few seconds. At first it said, "Alcyone—with affection on our tenth Christmas—Arrakis". The ornament's second message displayed, "We love you, Mother!—Rab and Rod". Arrakis was Mr. Lestrange. Bellatrix hadn't seen him since she'd been there; he was likely off on business for the Dark Lord. Rab and Rod, of course, were Rabastan and Rodolphus' childhood nicknames.

"Pretty, aren't they?" came a deep voice from behind her.

Bellatrix started, knocking the beautiful ornament from its branch. She watched it fall, bracing herself for the inevitable crash, but it never came. The crystal bounced gently on the carpet and came to rest, unscathed, next to a large pile of elegantly wrapped presents. She picked it up and glared at Rodolphus, who stood in the doorway, chuckling quietly.

"You startled me," she admonished. She put her hands on her hips and pouted.

Rodolphus moved across the room and stood beside her. He turned her gently towards the tree and pressed his chest against her back, wrapping one arm around her waist. He used the other arm to guide her hand towards the tree, and together they carefully replaced the ornament. She turned slowly in his arms and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. He tightened the grip on her waist and deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. After a few moments, he started to pull away, but Bellatrix snaked an arm behind his neck and kept his lips locked against her own.

Once she was satisfied, she said, "Rodolphus, why didn't you tell me that your mother and Rabastan had already spoken to you about the Death Eaters?"

He looked down, taking a step backwards, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

Bellatrix pursed her lips in disappointment. She had hoped that Rabastan hadn't mentioned 'Death Eaters' to his brother, and that she would have the edge in knowing more than he did. What bothered her more, however, was that he had been told the Death Eaters, perhaps for days, and had told her nothing.

"Rodolphus," she repeated, "when did you know?" When he did not reply immediately, she grabbed his wrist and dug her freshly painted nails into his skin. The polish was not yet dry, and left bright red streaks on his skin that looked like blood.

"It was only this morning!" he protested. "Bellatrix, I swear—I was going to tell you—Rabastan made me promise not to say anything until he and Mother had spoken to you—"

She pressed harder with her nails, and he groaned in pain. She stepped closer and put her face up to his, staring at him with cold, gleaming black eyes. "Listen to me," she hissed, "and listen well. If someone tells you something, _anything_ , you tell me. _Immediately_. I want to know if either of your parents says something. I want to know if Rabastan, Antonin, Amycus, _anyone_ tells you anything. If a Death Eater looks at you, I want to know. If a Death Eater _sneezes_ , I want to hear about it before someone even says 'Bless you'. Do you understand?"

Rodolphus nodded wordlessly, his eyes wide. Anxious to offer reparations, he quickly said, "My father will likely want to meet with me when he comes back from his trip. I'll ask him to let you come with me."

"You'll _tell_ him I'm coming with you," Bellatrix corrected, finally releasing his wrist. He rubbed the raw marks with his other hand and winced.

"I'll tell him," Rodolphus repeated, pressing a hesitant kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he added, sounding like a guilty puppy.

This time, Bellatrix did not reply. She pushed him aside and strode out of the room. When she reached the doorway, she paused and looked over her shoulder. "I like that ornament," she said with surprising calm. "The crystal one. I want one for Christmas, but nicer." She put on a fake smile and added, with sickening sweetness, "Get it for me, will you, darling?"

She blew him a kiss and slammed the parlour door behind her.


	8. A Long Night Ahead

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

Bellatrix felt like she had waited weeks for the day of the Lestranges' Christmas party to arrive; in reality, it had only been a few days. She awoke earlier than usual on that day to help Alcyone Lestrange with last-minute preparations for the party. Druella Black had requested that her eldest daughter learn the finer points of being a hostess. Bellatrix had reluctantly agreed, promising herself that when she was older she would leave the parties to Narcissa.

The two women were in the larger dining room, overseeing house elves and pondering such fascinating topics as table arrangements and centerpieces. Bellatrix stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and considered pleading a headache, but a sharp look from Alcyone brought her back to attention.

"You may not realize it," Alcyone continued, "but the specific flowers that you choose will have great bearing on the atmosphere of your party. For example, a spring party may have a pastel colour palette, but you must absolutely _never_ have yellow flowers. Yellow most often connotes negative emotions: disdain, jealousy, rejection. Now, these poinsettias—"

She was interrupted by a loud creaking noise behind them. They both turned quickly as the huge oak door swung open to reveal Rodolphus, looking slightly intimidated. He started to speak, but Alcyone held up a hand to stop him. She snapped her fingers at a nearby house elf and hissed, "Why hasn't that door been cleaned? It's still creaking. Fix it!" She cleared her throat. "What is it, Rodolphus?"

He looked quickly at Bellatrix and said, "Mother, Father's home. He wants to see Bellatrix and me."

Alcyone looked at the grandfather clock in the corner and bit her lip. "All right, Bellatrix," she sighed. "You'd best not keep him waiting."

Bellatrix fought the urge to skip to the door in relief. She had been freed from captivity; more importantly, she and Rodolphus were going to speak to Arrakis Lestrange, an experienced Death Eater. This was her chance to prove herself to someone more important than Rabastan or Antonin.

She exited the dining room as Rodolphus slipped his hand into hers. "Come on," he said quickly. "Father doesn't like to be kept waiting."

They crossed the front hall and went up the first flight of stairs, stopping at an ornate door. The antique gold knob was in the shape of a snake's head that reared up, ready to strike. Rodolphus reached for the snake and twisted it to the side, pushing the door open.

At the far end of the room stood an intricately carved desk, littered with books and heirlooms. One huge candle sat in its holder on the corner of the desk, dripping thick globs of wax that magically vanished just before they hit the desk. In a tall, dark green armchair behind the desk sat a man with sharp, hawk-like features and dark eyes that seemed bottomless. His long hair hung past his shoulder in neat waves, betraying his age with grey streaks like his wife's. He was leaning his chin against one tired, veined hand; the other hand held a quill that was scratching restlessly across the parchment before him.

"Father," Rodolphus began in a low, respectful tone, "you wanted to see Bellatrix and me?"

Arrakis Lestrange, though he had asked for their prompt arrival, was in no hurry to speak with them. He finished the sentence he was writing, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and placed the quill neatly into its silver inkpot before looking up.

"Rodolphus, Bellatrix," he intoned deeply, his voice resonating like a priest's. The two stepped forward, and Bellatrix noticed that, unlike his elder son, Arrakis bore no visible scars of battle.

"Tonight," he continued, steepling his fingers, "may well be the most important night of your lives." He sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk. "You may think you know the implications of the world which you are about to enter, but you do not. You cannot."

Bellatrix resisted the urge to shiver with delight and bit her lip.

"You stand on the greatest threshold the world has ever seen. You are poised on the edge of greatness, the shared greatness of the Dark Lord. And he is great. He has power that you cannot imagine." For the first time since she had entered the room, Bellatrix found her eyes locked with Arrakis'. "You can forget any idea of measuring up to him," he added coldly.

Rodolphus nodded and looked at his shoes, but Bellatrix found her voice. "Sir," she said, taking a deep breath in, "what's going to happen to us tonight?"

He replied instantly, "The rest of your lives." Seeing her brow furrow, he laughed hollowly and said, "If you expect to gain information so easily, get used to disappointment."

Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow and cheekily said, "Sir, you haven't spoken to Antonin Dolohov recently, have you?"

Rodolphus' eyes widened, and he reached over and surreptitiously kicked the back of her leg. She whipped her head around, nostrils flared like a wild horse, and glared openly at him. He ignored her and quickly said, "Father, she doesn't mean—"

Arrakis held up a hand and fixed his cold black eyes on his son. "Let her speak." He gestured at Bellatrix for her to continue.

She straightened her shoulders and said, "I wanted to know what our— _my_ —initiation would be like, and Antonin refused to tell me. At first." She smiled. "I managed to convince him."

Arrakis smirked, revealing fine lines around his eyes. "Beware your pride, Miss Black." He glanced at Rodolphus. "And you, son, beware her fury. I advise you to stay on her side."

Bellatrix pursed her lips, unable to discern if her future father-in-law was mocking her or complimenting her. She assumed the latter and declared, "Mr. Lestrange, I think we deserve to know what we're going to go through tonight."

He tilted his head and nodded once. "I can tell you only so much. It is not my place to reveal the Dark Lord's plans to those who are unworthy. No, do not argue," he interrupted himself, seeing Bellatrix beginning to protest, "because only the Dark Lord can label you worthy of joining his ranks. However, he does wish me to prepare you to a certain extent." Arrakis toyed absentmindedly with a silver paperweight on his desk. The sleeve of his elegant blue dress robes slipped, revealing just the edge of his faded Dark Mark. He looked first at his son, seeming to revel in his anxious face, and then shifted his gaze to Bellatrix. She stared straight back, her black eyes daring his to find her unworthy.

"I'm sure you've heard hints about the process of earning the coveted position of Death Eater. They are not the Dark Lord's only followers; only the most faithful are deemed worthy of this designation. You, with your skills, devotion, and, yes, family connections,"—at which Bellatrix suppressed a satisfied smirk—"have been granted the opportunity to join our hallowed ranks. You will be tested and examined, and the process will not be easy. I have seen those who presume to impress the Dark Lord and fail to do so." His eyes darkened. "Their fate is not a pleasant one."

Bellatrix shivered in anticipation, thinking of the Dark Lord's immense power. Rodolphus mistook her shudder for one of fear, and placed a subtle but comforting hand on her knee. She decided to leave it be.

"Your initiation," Mr. Lestrange continued, "will begin with a series of questions asked by the Dark Lord in front of all present. These questions will test your resolve and your loyalty. DO not take them lightly."

The two teenagers nodded vigourously.

"You will then be tested in private. Only you and the Dark Lord will be privy to the details of this meeting." Arrakis brushed a lock of grey hair out of his eyes and looked cryptically off into the distance above their heads. Bellatrix couldn't help but wonder what Mr. Lestrange's initiation had been like. What had the Dark Lord done to him? She remembered Antonin's words, about how a Death Eater's initiation was based on the Dark Lord's intended use for him or her. What special potential had he seen in Arrakis Lestrange, or in Rabastan? This idea quickly shifted into a more exciting prospect—what potential might he see in her? Bellatrix' right arm itched along the old scars she had once shown to Lucius Malfoy; the sensation caused a wonderful thought to bloom in her mind. Was it possible—could she dare to dream it?—that the Dark Lord would want her to be trained in the three Unforgivable Curses?

Bellatrix' reverie was broken by Arrakis' deep, bell-like voice continuing, "If, by this point, your performance has satisfied the Dark Lord, you will be… inducted, so to speak." Seeing their expectant faces, he added, "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you."

Truthfully, Bellatrix had expected much less information—though, now that she thought about it, none of what her future father-in-law had told them really made them any more prepared than the next Death Eater hopeful. She exchanged a dark-eyed glance with Rodolphus, who nodded gratefully at his father.

"Thank you," Rodolphus said, reaching a hand across the cluttered desk. Arrakis grasped it and gave a firm handshake, dipping his head towards Bellatrix. He pulled a pocket watch with a fine gold chain out of his robes, glanced at it, and picked up his quill. "I will see you two later tonight, I expect. You should ready yourselves for the party," he said. "I've got some work to finish." He waved them towards the door with another cryptic half-smile. "Best of luck to you both…. You've got a long night ahead of you."

Rodolphus held the door open for Bellatrix, who swept by with practiced elegance, and closed it softly behind her. He looked at her, and she smirked and reached for the front of his robes.

"It's finally going to happen," she whispered, running her other hand along his muscled arm.

"Bellatrix," he said in half-hearted protest, but she ignored him and pulled him down towards her. Their lips met and his hand, out of habit, slid around her waist as he pressed her back against the wall. She let out a soft groan and ran her fingers through his dark curls.

An amused cough shattered the almost-silence. The couple broke apart and whipped around to see Rabastan at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and chuckling softly to himself. A smirk twisted across his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Shut up, Rabastan," Rodolphus said angrily, his face glowing crimson with embarrassment. Bellatrix, however, was uncharacteristically calm.

"Let him be," she said coolly, but there was a malevolent glint in her black eyes. "He's only upset because he's about to be shown up in the one thing he's held over us."

Rodolphus looked confused. Bellatrix laughed coldly and pecked him on the cheek, her eyes on his brother. She moved up the stairs, brushing her hand lightly over Rabastan's shoulder, and stopped a few steps above him. "After all," she continued, looking down at Rabastan but speaking to Rodolphus, "after tonight, he won't be the family's only proud Death Eater son."

Rabastan's brow furrowed, and he took another step down. "And you think that matters to me?"

She smiled. "Of course," she continued sweetly, "it'll be even more shaming for you when you let a _woman_ prove she's worth more than you."

Rodolphus was still uncomfortable. "Bellatrix," he said pleadingly, "can you just drop it?"

She sent him a fiery glare, her hands suddenly clenching themselves into fists. He looked down at his shoes. "I'll… just be getting ready, then," he said quietly, gritting his teeth. He pushed past them and up the stairs, careful not to touch Bellatrix as he passed.

She watched him go with an amused smile. She looked down at Rabastan, who wore almost the same expression.

"Come on, _Bella_ ," he taunted, knowing how much she hated her childhood nickname, "you really think you'd be better than me?" He grinned. "Better than my brother, I can believe. Better than me? Unlikely, my dear."

Bellatrix briefly considered cursing him before she realized that her wand was in her room. "Be careful how you boast, _Rab_ ," she returned cuttingly. "You'll end up regretting it."

He took the stairs two at a time and closed the gap between them so that there was barely an inch between their faces. Bellatrix was breathing hard.

"Why was the elder Lestrange brother left with no betrothed, while the younger was promised the eldest Black daughter?" she asked suddenly.

He was caught off guard. "Bellatrix, what a question!" He laughed shortly, but his eyes were dark and impassive.

"I've always wondered."

He took a slow step backwards and gave her a small smile. "Keep wondering, Miss Black," he said mysteriously, turning on his heel and moving quickly down the hall.

* * *

Bellatrix stood at the bottom of the grand staircase. Rodolphus made a gallant bow and cast an appreciative glance over her figure. She was dangerously resplendent in a dark wine-coloured silk gown that clung to her body like a serpent. Her glossy black hair was pinned up in elaborate curls, and Rodolphus gently tucked one behind her ear and kissed the back of her hand. She gave him a crimson smile and placed her hand atop his proffered arm.

"They'll all be watching you," he whispered in her ear as they made their way towards the ballroom.

"Won't they?" she asked slyly, squeezing his arm cheekily.

They came to the wide doorway and Rodolphus gave her a subtle push forward, letting the glimmering lights of the party fall on her radiant form. He watched, a small smile on his lips, as one by one the heads in the crowd turned like dominos. There were far more in attendance than either of them had expected. Bellatrix took a hesitant step into the room, bringing Rodolphus behind her. Both dipped their heads; Bellatrix, suddenly uncharacteristically nervous, felt her heart pound wildly in her chest and searched for a familiar face in the crowds.

Rodolphus bent and put his mouth to her ear. "Rabastan," he whispered, motioning towards him with a jerk of his chin. The couple quickly pushed their way through the thick line of witches and wizards and found his brother.

"Impressive," Rabastan said, smirking. "You two caused quite a stir." He flicked his wand lazily, and three full champagne flutes zoomed over their heads and lowered themselves into their hands.

"How many of them know?" Rodolphus asked quietly.

"Know what? That you're going to join the Dark Lord tonight?" His brother sipped his drink. "Only a few. A disappointing number of our kind aren't as… _enthusiastic_ about our methods."

Bellatrix frowned and heatedly said, "But they should be. The Dark Lord is the only one who's ever actively tried to purify the wizarding race. How can they stand by and ignore what we're doing? They should be supporting us!" Her hand tightened and shook in anger. A few drops of champagne sloshed over the edge of her glass.

Rabastan shrugged. "They don't understand. Some of them are afraid of the Dark Lord, mostly the older ones who remember Grindelwald and his attempts. Some of them think that we will fail; they're not willing to come aboard what they think is a sinking ship." He pursed his lips and surveyed the room, his brow furrowing. "The worst are the ones who don't even believe in what we're doing. The ones to whom pureblood status is no longer important."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but Rodolphus, in an uncharacteristically forceful move, cut her off. "And they're here?" he hissed, fury creeping in his voice. "Mother and Father invited _blood traitors_ to their party?"

"Not your father, surely," Bellatrix said, more than a little shocked. Arrakis Lestrange was Death Eater; he couldn't possibly have allowed blood traitors into his home.

Rabastan shook his head. "Of course not. And neither would Mother; you should both know that." He sighed and downed the rest of his champagne. "But they did. It's… complicated. They should not forget their blood, and the time for punishment will come to those who continue to do so. But the Death Eaters aren't exactly well received in society yet, and our parents understand the importance of keeping both their blood status and their societal respect."

Bellatrix could have sworn that he gave her an almost-imperceptible pointed look at that point, but she decided to say nothing about it. "So they invite them to their parties, and then turn around and criticize their ways," she said, one eyebrow raised. "It's nearly as despicable as allowing Muggle-borns. I would never allow a blood traitor to set foot in my home."

"Then you would forget your place in the wizarding world," Rabastan countered. "Until we have out rightful place over the scum of this earth, you must present one face to the outside world, and the other to us. You cannot expect to survive in one world without earning respect in the other."

"And so I will marry Rodolphus, bear his children, host parties, and pander to those who deserve to die. And when will I fight?"

"When the Dark Lord wants you to."

Three heads whipped around in surprise. Silent as a cat, Antonin Dolohov had snuck up behind them and decided that he was a part of their conversation. He smiled toothily, stretching what looked like a fresh scar across his twisted lip, before his eyes found Bellatrix and the grin was wiped from his face. Remembering their last encounter, she glared openly at him.

Rabastan saw the unspoken exchange and quickly said, "Antonin. Bellatrix. Enough. _Don't get distracted._ "

They kept their eyes on each other. Dolohov's glimmered with a combination of anxiety and wounded pride; Bellatrix's were dark with fury.

Rodolphus put a hand on Bellatrix's arm. She shook him off, but he locked an insistent hand around her wrist. "Bellatrix, tell me what's going on."

She didn't take her eyes off of Dolohov. "Nothing. Antonin is one of those people we were talking about, those who underestimate the importance of loyalty to the Dark Lord."

Dolohov didn't miss a beat. "Bellatrix is one of those people who sleeps around with men she doesn't belong to. You should keep her on a shorter leash, Lestrange."

Bellatrix resisted the urge to make a scene by slapping Dolohov across the face. Rodolphus, however, had no such sense of control over his anger.

"You _slept_ with him?" he hissed, digging his fingers into her wrist. She cried out softly and tried to wrench herself out of his grip, but to no avail. " _You slept with him_?" he repeated.

"No—Rodolphus, he's lying—you don't understand—" He was ruining her perfect evening.

"Save it," he spat. He downed his champagne in one gulp and threw the glass on the floor. It shattered and magically fixed itself, lying on its side on the ballroom floor. Rodolphus dropped her wrist and stalked away.

Bellatrix rubbed the raw skin, looking put out. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with him tonight?" she muttered. "He's been acting like this all evening."

Dolohov laughed. "Acting like what? Like he's got a spine?" He gave Bellatrix a bitter look. "Is it too difficult for you to deal with a man who won't bend to your will?"

She ignored the jibe and demanded, "Why did you tell him I slept with you? We both know it's a lie."

Dolohov shrugged and replied, "I suppose I wasn't remembering the encounter properly. Must not have been memorable."

Rabastan put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Drop it, Antonin," he said tiredly. "You shouldn't have been spilling Death Eater secrets to her, and she shouldn't have baited you." He glanced at Bellatrix. "I'll talk to Rod. Given what little he knew, he was right to be upset, but he shouldn't have made such a scene." He kissed her chastely on the cheek. "Go on, have fun. Drink wine. It's what Mother would want you to do." Glancing at his watch, he added, "It's already past ten. Meet us outside my father's office at eleven. And don't worry about Rodolphus. He'll come around."

"I'm not worried," she protested, crossing her arms over her chest, but Rabastan had already disappeared with Antonin in tow. She sighed and took a sip of champagne. It was beastly stuff, she privately thought, but a shot of firewhiskey would not look appropriate for a seventeen-year-old at her future in-laws' Christmas party. She drifted through the room, catching the eyes of those she recognized and nodding politely. Rodolphus was nowhere to be found. At one point she thought she saw him speaking to his father, but he disappeared the next moment and she couldn't be sure. Another time, she thought she had spotted her sister; this, however, turned out to be true.

"Bellatrix!" Narcissa squealed, hugging her tightly. Bellatrix had the distinct impression that she was being enveloped by a pink and rather inebriated cloud. Lucius Malfoy stood behind her. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at him over Narcissa's shoulder; he shrugged and pointed to the dripping wine glass that Narcissa had almost dropped.

"Cissy," Bellatrix said through a mouthful of chiffon, "don't make a fool of yourself. It isn't becoming." She managed to extract herself from her sister's grip and nodded at Lucius. "How are you, Malfoy?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied cryptically. "My family's all aflutter; my brother—"

Narcissa interrupted him. "His _brother_ , Bellatrix, can you imagine? No one's heard from him in over a year, and now he's suddenly come back. I can't imagine why he hasn't been around. I certainly hadn't met him, had you? No, of course not," she said, before Bellatrix had answered, "or I swear you wouldn't stay with Rodolphus. Mordred is _such_ the charmer. Not that I don't love you, Lucius—" here she pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, "—but you simply _must_ meet him, Bellatrix. He's just the kind of man you'd be interested in." She stumbled slightly and caught her sister's arm for support.

Bellatrix gave Narcissa a withering look. "You can be such a disgrace sometimes, Cissy." She gently pushed her sister towards Lucius. "Malfoy, you should know better than to let her drink so much." She lowered her voice and asked, "Has your brother really returned?"

Lucius nodded. "He's somewhere here at the party, I believe. The Dark Lord's finally decided to let him back into the fold." He shook his head in disgust. "Don't listen to a word Narcissa says. He's a charmer, yes, but he's also a womanizer and a drinker. I'm sure you've heard the story of why he was forced to leave."

Bellatrix nodded. "Is it true that he's been gathering information in his absence?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't say." Narcissa hiccupped softly from Lucius' arms, and he hoisted her up so that she could lean on him. "Come on then, love, let's get you a Sobering Potion. I'm sure the Lestranges have some hidden away somewhere."

"A what potion?"

Bellatrix pursed her lips and stared after her sister, finishing her champagne gracefully. A passing house elf held up a tray, and she abandoned her glass and made her way closer to the tall grandfather clock. 10:45. She couldn't help grinning in anticipation as an exhilarated shiver shook her shoulders.

"Not cold, I hope?" came a smooth, unknown voice from behind her. Another glass of champagne materialized in the air beside her hand. Without speaking, she waved it away.

"I don't blame you," continued the smooth voice. "I'd want something stronger if I were you."

Bellatrix began to wonder if she hadn't heard that voice somewhere before. She refused to turn around. It wasn't polite for an unknown man to simply begin speaking to her without introducing himself first.

"Now, a firewhiskey might do you some good, m'lady. But then again, aren't you a bit young?"

Bellatrix's eyes widened in recognition. She turned slowly on her heel, arms crossed over her chest, and found herself face to face with a tall man. His chocolate brown hair was swept back and secured with an elegant silver ribbon that matched the trim on his dress robes. His aquiline nose and smooth-shaven chin were above her eye level, and she had to take a step back to see his face.

"You!" she gasped softly, not wishing to attract the attention of those around them. "You're that… that bartender from the Hog's Head!"

The man held up his hands in a show of confession. "Guilty, I'm afraid."

She stared angrily up into his face. A lowly worker from Hogsmeade at such a prestigious party was unheard of. "How dare you presume to speak to me? How dare you set foot in the house of those far beyond your station?"

He lowered his hands slowly with a wicked smile. "My apologies. I did not properly introduce myself, I'm afraid, either at this meeting or at our last. Do you always keep company with characters such as Antonin Dolohov?"

"Don't stain the names of your betters with your foul lips," she hissed. "Leave my presence at once!"

He shrugged. "Suit yourself, Miss Black." He turned to go.

"Stop!" she said, flustered. "How do you know my name? And how did you know Antonin's?"

The man stopped in his tracks and smiled at her. His teeth glinted in the candlelight. "I told you, Miss Black, I did not have the chance to properly introduce myself." Bowing, he caught her hand and kissed the back of it with soft, cool lips. "Mordred Malfoy, your humble servant."

She drew her hand back in surprise. "You're lying."

Mordred chuckled softly, his back still bent in a courteous bow. "I assure you, Bellatrix—may I call you Bellatrix?—that I'm not lying."

She couldn't help whispering, "But you're in disgrace."

He straightened slowly. "Ah, yes. So you've heard." He let out a lazy sigh. "I _was_ in disgrace, to be precise. The Dark Lord has been forgiving to me."

"You must know that such a favour can never be returned."

He gave a sad smile. "Then you know that his pardons are few and far between. No, I cannot expect to live up to such uncharacteristic mercy. But I can make amends. I have been… _listening_ for the Dark Lord."

A sudden idea dawned upon Bellatrix, and she asked, "Is that why you were working in the Hog's Head?"

Mordred nodded. "And as you can imagine, all sorts of unsavoury characters find their way in there at one time or another. Present company excepted, of course." He winked at Bellatrix.

She was uncomfortable, but she kept it hidden. "You knew who I was when I was there with Antonin."

"I did." He didn't explain how. "Although I must say, this light suits you better. You're even more beautiful than I thought."

He was being forward, but Bellatrix was too curious to care. "What about Antonin?" she asked. "Why didn't he speak to you?"

Mordred shrugged and replied, "Several reasons, I suppose. He may not have seen me properly; none but the Dark Lord knew where I went. He may simply have refused to acknowledge me; most of my former companions have shown me similar ignorance tonight. Or perhaps he was too distracted by the young woman in front of him to notice an old friend waiting in the wings."

 _Distracted_. The word brought Rabastan's face looming into Bellatrix's imagination, and she remembered what she had heard about Mordred Malfoy. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She glanced up at the clock, and her heart skipped a beat. 10:58. "But I'm afraid I have somewhere to be."

He followed her gaze to the intricately carved clock face. "What fortuitous luck, Miss Black." He held out his arm. "I have to be there as well. May I escort you?"

Bellatrix bit her lip and hesitantly curled her hand around his arm. "I'd be delighted."


	9. Do You Know Who I Am?

**Candied Tongue**

" _Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."_

* * *

The Lestranges' Christmas party was still in full swing, although a few guests were suddenly nowhere to be found. In fact, Mordred Malfoy appeared to be the only young man still in the room. He seemed to realize this as he and Bellatrix swept across the ballroom.

"We'd best hurry," he said quietly, quickening his step as they passed through the door and turned towards the stairs.

Bellatrix took a deep breath and felt it shudder in her chest. The narrow heel of her shoe sank into the plush carpet of the first step, and she wobbled slightly, gripping his arm for support.

Mordred glanced at her, candlelight flickering over his handsome features. "Nervous?" he asked with hollow sympathy.

She threw him a dark glare and haughtily replied, "No." As they ascended the steps, she thought more carefully about his words. "But how did you know what I was doing tonight?"

He shrugged. "News of a change in the ranks travels fast."

"I thought your friends weren't speaking to you."

He chuckled and placed a hand at the small of her back. "You're very observant. A good listener. It will serve you well, my dear." He looked down the hall as they reached the top of the stairs, and Bellatrix followed his gaze. A group of men, some recognizable, some much older than her, was clustered around Arrakis Lestrange's office. The door was open, and the men were slowly filing in. Bellatrix felt her heart pound at the base of her throat as she saw Rabastan and Rodolphus at the end of the line. She let Mordred's arm slip from hers and strode across the hallway to meet them.

"Hello, boys," she said, pressing a kiss to Rodolphus' cheek. He stared at her for a few seconds, and then shifted his gaze over her shoulder to the man slowly making his way towards them.

Rodolphus snorted quietly and replied, "Is this how you're trying to convince me that you're not sleeping around? By showing up with _him_?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and turned away. Rabastan caught her eye. "Calm down, both of you. This isn't the time." He placed a warning hand on his brother's shoulder. "What would the Dark Lord think of such petty arguments?"

The mention of the Dark Lord snapped Bellatrix back to attention. She stretched onto her toes, trying to see over the heads into Mr. Lestrange's office, but she only succeeded in confirming her suspicions that she was the only female present.

"Why are there no other women?"

Mordred crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you really have to ask that? There are none who can match us." He glanced over Bellatrix's graceful form with an appraising eye and added, "None yet, at any rate."

Rabastan sighed. "Malfoy, stop. Honestly, the three of you are enough to drive the devil mad. Must I guard all your tongues?"

Bellatrix tossed her head proudly and said, "Not mine. I am here to prove myself, not waste my time with idle chatter."

Rodolphus opened his mouth angrily, but Rabastan squeezed his shoulder to silence him. They had entered the office.

The room was crowded, humming with murmured conversations, and Bellatrix wondered how the Dark Lord could possibly hold a meeting in such a cramped space. She craned her neck, wondering if he was already present, and bit her lip with anxious sigh. This night, her night, had finally arrived: the night when she would be recognized for her own talents and skills, recognized wholly apart from the Lestranges, from Dolohov and Carrow and Malfoy, from everyone—when she alone would shine in front of the Dark Lord. She could prove herself to him, prove her strength and loyalty, and he would praise her, reward her, curse his ill fortune that she had not come to him sooner.

Bellatrix did not notice that she had clenched her fists by her side until she felt Rodolphus' hand suddenly slip over hers. He traced his fingers over the raised tendons on her knuckles.

"Strange," Bellatrix said quietly, not looking at him, "I thought you were angry with me."

He sighed and tried to pry her fingers loose from their tight fist, but she refused to yield. "Bellatrix," he said, bending so that his lips hovered near her ear, "I wish we wouldn't have fights like this. They aren't becoming."

"Neither are imitations of your brother, but I agree with you. We can't be arguing tonight." Bellatrix turned and looked up at Rodolphus. His carefully brushed hair had become mussed and was hanging low over his forehead. She reached up and brushed a lock of dark hair aside, her gaze slowly rising to meet his. They stared at each other for a moment, barely breathing, and Bellatrix's hand slowly relaxed under the warmth of Rodolphus'.

"Definitely not tonight," he whispered, bending to kiss her. She let her body go slack as his arm slid around her waist and his lips moved eagerly against hers. A loud sigh came from behind him, and Bellatrix opened her eyes to see Rabastan and Mordred, watching them with a mixture of disapproval and amusement. She lifted an elegant middle finger, punctuated by the dark red fingernail, behind Rodolphus' head in an obscene gesture, then closed her eyes and slowly pulled away.

Rabastan raised his eyebrows and said, "Mark them well, Malfoy. You may never again see such a bipolar couple."

Malfoy snickered and opened his mouth to comment, but Rabastan stopped him and pressed a finger to his lips, motioning with his chin towards the opposite end of the room. Having made sure that the office door was locked, Mr. Lestrange had made his way through the thick crowd to the bookcase behind his desk. He was glancing over the thick, ancient tomes that covered the shelves and muttering something under his breath. As the crowd fell silent in awe and anticipation, Bellatrix could make out the faint sounds of Latin. Arrakis pulled his wand from his dress robes and placed it against one of the books, then another.

"It's just like Diagon Alley," Rodolphus murmured to Bellatrix, but she held up an impatient hand to silence him. She was watching Arrakis intently. Having marked out some unknown pattern in the books, he uttered a final quiet phrase in Latin. The chosen books glowed green for a brief moment, and then crumbled to ash. The bookcase gave a shudder; Arrakis held out his arms and said, "Stand back." The remaining books quivered as the bookcase shook and finally began to rise into the air. It floated slowly upwards until it hovered, still trembling, about a foot off the ground. Arrakis beckoned someone from the crowd, a spindly man with short auburn hair. Bellatrix's eyes widened, and this time it was she who broke the thick silence.

"Is that… Augustus Rookwood?" she whispered, awestruck.

Mordred nodded, looking proud. "He was Head Boy in his time—would have been your first year, wouldn't it? Top prospect for the Ministry, had his pick of jobs, and what does he choose? The Department of Mysteries." He shook his head and shrugged. "Thank Merlin he's on our side."

"Isn't he an Unspeakable?" Rodolphus inquired.

"Not yet," Mordred replied, "but he'll likely make the position in the next year. He might be one of the youngest—not that the rest of the world would ever know, of course. But he'll be valued for his information, that much is certain."

Bellatrix cast a suspicious glance towards Rabastan, who had remained silent as he watched his father. "You're missing a golden opportunity to give another lesson on the necessity of public propriety," she said mockingly.

Rabastan rubbed his chin thoughtfully and stretched his arms out in front of him before replying, "Actually, you seemed to have grasped the general concept. Besides, being an Unspeakable isn't really a public identity, per se. Now be quiet; we're about to go inside."

"Inside where?" Rodolphus asked, but Bellatrix was already staring eagerly. Mr. Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood were magically pushing the bookcase aside with their wands. Where it had stood, instead of a blank wall, there was a small, dark rectangle that she quickly realized was a secret entrance. It was just large enough for Bellatrix to fit through if she stooped. The crowd was now pushing forward slowly, filing one by one into the dark recess.

"How long has that been there?" Rodolphus muttered incredulously to himself.

As they drew closer to the entrance, Bellatrix could see that it did not lead directly ahead, but downward. Mordred reached it first, but stood aside and gestured gallantly into the recess. "M'lady," he said in a low voice, bowing slightly and giving her a cheeky smile. Bellatrix took his hand and stepped carefully through the hole. Her heeled shoes hit one stone step, and then another, and she mentally cursed the societal demands of fashion. She would have preferred her trademark boots.

With one hand against the dank wall, she slowly made her way down the stairs. Though the secret path had appeared pitch-black at first, there were actually tiny torches that flickered by her feet and lit the way down the spiraling stairs. Bellatrix could feel someone behind her, and the thought was surprisingly comforting. She hadn't expected to need or find comfort tonight.

At the bottom of the steps, a short hall opened into a wide, cavernous room. Here, the Death Eaters had spread out, breaking into smaller groups of quiet conversations. Bellatrix found an empty space against the wall and was quickly joined by Rodolphus.

"Where are the other two?" she asked.

Rodolphus looked over his shoulder. "They're with Amycus Carrow. I suppose they won't want to be associated with the novices." He smiled and rubbed her shoulder. "Are you cold, love?"

She shook her head and pulled a pin out of her hair, then Transfigured it into a mirror and checked her hair. Tucking a few curls back into place, she pocketed the mirror and leaned back against the wall, staring up at Rodolphus.

"Won't we be starting soon?" she said petulantly, biting her lip.

He shrugged and glanced around. "I suppose it's all on the Dark Lord's schedule, really." He caught sight of Antonin Dolohov nearby and exhaled heavily.

Bellatrix followed his gaze and placed a hand on his muscular arm. "So you've forgiven me," she said idly, inspecting the sleeve of his dress robes.

He hesitated a few seconds before answering, "Yes." He watched as she slowly slid her hand underneath his sleeve. "Although Rabastan tells me you didn't actually sleep with him."

"No, I didn't. I made a promise to you, remember? I did what any reasonable person would have done," Bellatrix said evenly. "I saw a weakness, and I took the opportunity to gain information." She began rolling his sleeve up his arm.

"So when you showed up with Mordred Malfoy—"

"I had just met him. I'm aware of his reputation, Rodolphus, and I don't appreciate your jumping to conclusions." Bellatrix had finally reached her goal: the expanse of pale, unmarked skin on Rodolphus' forearm. She traced the edge of her fingernail against his flesh, watching goose bumps rise in its wake. "Oh, Rodolphus," she breathed reverently, her eyes glittering in the dim torchlight, "Rodolphus, can you imagine? What it's going to feel like when he marks us?" Her eyes slipped closed, and she spoke as if in a trance. "To be in his presence, to let him leave his mark upon our skin… to invade our very minds…." She shivered.

There was a sudden gasp from the corner of the room, followed by a ripple of whispers that fell across the crowd. Bellatrix dropped Rodolphus' arm and stood up straight. The men slowly backed away from the center of the room to line the walls. Some crossed the room quickly, finding what seemed to be prearranged places in the circle of wizards. Bellatrix glanced about nervously, wondering if they were standing in the right place; Rodolphus took a small step backwards as he tried to blend in with the other men. Someone coughed. As the last few men found their places in line, the source of the sudden upheaval was revealed.

Standing in the center of the room, wrapped in a thick, swirling shroud of black silk, was a tall, imposing figure. A black hood covered his head, and the billowing sleeves of his robes fell over his hands. His back was to Bellatrix, but she had no doubts in her mind as to his identity. She held her breath as, for the first time, she heard him speak.

"My Death Eaters," the Dark Lord whispered, and yet his words resonated from the stone walls, "my faithful Death Eaters. At my command, you leave your holiday celebrations, your dancing wives and merry children, to serve me." He raised one arm and held his hand, palm up, towards Mr. Lestrange. Bellatrix could see that his bony fingers were unnaturally long and silvery pale.

Mr. Lestrange knelt, ignoring the cold, damp stone, and bowed his head. "My Lord," he said, his voice deep but devoid of its earlier superiority, "I thank you for the honour you have bestowed upon me. My house and my life are at your bidding."

"I can expect no more, Arrakis," the Dark Lord said, lowering his hand. "Your services are appreciated." He slowly surveyed the wizards who stood before him. From what Bellatrix could see, they had arranged themselves more or less according to age. The Dark Lord took a step forward and began making slow progress around the edge of the circle. He came to a stop in front of Rabastan, Antonin, and Mordred. From this angle, Bellatrix could finally catch a glimpse of the Dark Lord's face. His cheeks had the same deathly pallor as his hands. His forehead was long and narrow, but what struck Bellatrix were his eyes. They were a cold, bottomless black, but in the light they glinted crimson. A part of her wondered how his appearance had come to be so inhuman, but perhaps he was never meant to look earthly. Perhaps a man of his power could never _be_ earthly.

"Mordred Malfoy." His words came out almost in a hiss. Mordred's confident expression faltered slightly. "For one year, this space in the circle has stood empty while you, as punishment for your disobedience, bided your time in the gutter." The Dark Lord's eyes glowed dangerously, and Rabastan gave Mordred a subtle kick with the toe of his boot. Mordred took the hint and dropped heavily to his knees, wincing as he hit the floor.

"I beg forgiveness, My Lord," Mordred whispered. "I was defiant and insubordinate. It will not happen again."

"No, I trust it will not. You have learned your lesson, Malfoy; do not make me teach it again." The threatening calm in his voice made Bellatrix shudder. The Dark Lord took a step towards the center of the circle and clasped his eerily long-fingered hands behind his back. When he next spoke, his gaze was pointed towards the ceiling, but his words were to the group at large. "I grow weary, as you do, of all this business with the past. Our glorious past is long behind us; we must learn to shape the future so that the filth of this world know _where they belong_." His scarlet eyes slid across the faces in the circle and came to rest on Bellatrix and Rodolphus. "So they know where _we_ belong."

Bellatrix's lips parted as she gasped silently for breath. The Dark Lord's eyes smoldered and bored into hers, seeming to burrow into her skull and explore her mind. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if that tingling, crawling sensation of the Dark Lord searching, delving into her innermost thoughts, was just her imagination.

"It's not your imagination," the Dark Lord said in a low voice, and Bellatrix jumped. His flat, pale mouth curled into something resembling a smirk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rodolphus bow his head in respect, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the Dark Lord's.

"These are the two?" he continued, seeming to speak to someone else. Bellatrix closed her mouth and swallowed hard.

"Yes, my Lord," Arrakis replied from behind him. To Bellatrix, his voice was thick and faraway, as though he were speaking from underwater. "My son, Rodolphus, and… Bellatrix Black."

The Dark Lord closed his eyes and ran a bony hand loosely over his face. "The night grows old, and I'm sure these two are anxious to… prove themselves." A low ripple of laughter moved across the circle like a pulse of energy. Bellatrix could not help wondering how many people had tried and failed to join the Dark Lord's followers.

"Let us hope," the Dark Lord hissed, "that you are not among those failures." He strode towards Bellatrix and Rodolphus suddenly and placed the tip of his wand against the stone wall between their heads. The two quickly moved aside and stared in awe. A round wooden door was shimmering into place below the wand. The stone appeared to drip away as though it had been Disillusioned. At the top of the door, where the Dark Lord's wand had touched the wall, was a dark bronze oval with an ornate 'S' etched into its surface.

For the first time, the Dark Lord fixed his cold, unearthly stare on Rodolphus alone. He placed his wand back into the folds of his robe and said, "I think it only proper that we allow the lady to be tried first." He beckoned Bellatrix forward. She took a hesitant step away from the wall, towards the center of the circle, and tried to focus on the Dark Lord.

"You are Bellatrix Black?"

She nodded and met his gaze. Somehow, the fire in his eyes seemed to give her strength and confidence, and she replied, "Yes, my Lord." To her satisfaction, her voice was steady.

"Why have you come here?"

Bellatrix was confused, but then remembered what Dolohov and Mr. Lestrange had warned her about. These questions were no mere formality; she could be cast from the circle before she had the chance to prove herself if she wasn't careful. She took a deep breath that strained at the tight curves of her dress, peripherally aware of more than a few stares moving across her body. "My Lord, I have come here because…" She hated herself for hesitating. She needed to be cool and calm in front of men who had already proven themselves to the Dark Lord. "I—I wish to serve you. I wish to serve you as a Death Eater and dedicate my life to the cause of cleansing this world of worthless filth."

The Dark Lord gave no indication that this answer was satisfactory or unsatisfactory; his lips twitched unnervingly as he asked, "How is it that you come to know our cause?"

He had not ejected her from his presence yet, and that small fact gave Bellatrix some assurance. She straightened up and answered, "I have known no other cause, my Lord. All my life, I have been disgusted by the low, unworthy creatures that crawl the earth and rob us of our rightful place above them. All my life, I have desired to end such a shameful subversion of our ways. Until I learned of the Death Eaters from Rabastan Lestrange this summer, I did not know that an outlet for such desires existed." Bellatrix could not hide the proud smile twisting her lips. She had done well; she was sure of it.

But in the next moment, she was not so sure. The Dark Lord's next question caught her off guard: "What makes you believe you are worthy of entrance?"

Bellatrix opened her mouth, closed it, and twisted her fingers nervously behind her back. Taking time and great care with her words, she said, "My Lord, I have no doubts that I am worthy or serving you as closely as any Death Eater. I have power, magical skill beyond most my age. I want to learn the Dark Arts; I want to _master_ them. There is no cause more important to me than this one. I come from a long line of purebloods—" here she smirked openly—"who can be traced back beyond the ages when we held our rightful place over the scum who now pretend to be our equals. I am ready, my Lord, to give my life and my skill to your service in furthering this cause."

For a few moments, the Dark Lord remained silent and motionless. Bellatrix waited, not breathing, her eyes wide and sparkling. Her pale cheeks were flushed with anticipation. Finally, the Dark Lord walked past her to the door he had revealed in the wall. He traced the tip of one finger down the center of the door and watched it creak slowly open, revealing only blackness beyond. The Dark Lord gestured to Bellatrix and nodded towards the gaping black hole. With a characteristic toss of her hair over her shoulder, she slipped past Rodolphus and stepped through the doorway.

Bellatrix took a deep breath and tried to gather her wits about her. Her heart was pounding, pulsing in her throat, and she barely heard the door click softly shut behind her. In the pitch blackness, she felt someone moving behind her. A ring of torches around the walls burst into crackling, flaming life, illuminating a smaller version of the cavern she had just left. She turned around and gazed up at the Dark Lord. He gave her a cold glance and walked past her. The brush of his cloak against her bare shoulders made her shudder.

"Bellatrix Black," he said softly, as though testing her name on his thin lips. "A good pureblood family with much history… and yet you are the first to come to me."

She breathed in sharply, ready to make a quick reply—and realized that, faced with the moment she had dreamed of for months, she had none.

He turned and faced her, beckoning her closer with a finger. She took an obliging step forward and lowered her gaze respectfully.

"No, no, Miss Black, I want you to look at me." She suddenly felt her head being forced upwards by an unseen force, dragging her dark eyes onto his. Her chin quivered as he asked, "Do you fear me?"

Bellatrix shook her head slowly, and for the first time, she found words to address him and him alone. "No. But my Lord… you will know if I lie."

"You come prepared, Miss Black." He chuckled mirthlessly, a strangely high-pitched laugh. "No, you are not afraid of me… though there is something else you are afraid of. Your own failure? My disapproval?" He glanced over her shoulder at the door behind her. "Certainly not the opinions of others. No, it is my opinion of you alone that gives you such fear, Miss Black."

Eager to prove her confidence, Bellatrix quietly said, "Please, my Lord, call me Bellatrix."

The Dark Lord closed his eyes and exhaled. "Bella…trix." He was silent for a moment, and she felt that same crawling sensation through her mind. This time, however, it lasted long enough that she was able to test the feeling, savor the sensation tingling in her scalp. Suddenly, it was gone, and her mind felt strangely incomplete without it.

Hesitatingly, she asked, "My Lord?"

He surveyed her, his scarlet-tinted eyes narrowing cryptically. Finally, he said, "Do you know who I am?"

The question caught her by surprise. Had she been tricked? No, none but the Dark Lord himself could have probed her mind so carefully. "You're… the Dark Lord."

He chuckled again. "So they call me, those who fear me. Those who serve me. But," he repeated, "do you know who I am?"

Wordlessly, Bellatrix shook her head, wondering if she had done something wrong already. The Dark Lord did not supply an answer to the question, instead staring off into the distance just above her head. "You have a certain… penchant, shall we say, for pain," he said, almost as if to himself. "For causing pain, certainly…. But what happens when you are on the receiving end?" He raised his wand suddenly, and she flinched. "I see," he hissed in amusement.

She felt shame course through her body. She had shown him fear. She, who had tried to practice the Cruciatus Curse on her own body, had shown weakness to the Dark Lord.

"You sought to prepare yourself," he whispered, his thin lips spreading into a malicious smile. "For what? Your own selfish pride?"

Bellatrix's cheeks burned crimson in her pale face, and she felt a tear pricking her eyelashes. "N-no, my Lord," she said softly, looking down at her shoes. "I wanted to make myself strong enough for you. If I'm not strong enough to taste pain and survive it, how can I cause such pain to those who truly deserve it?"

The Dark Lord tilted his head slightly and nodded once. "Then let us test your strength. _Crucio_!"

Bellatrix had less than a second to react before the curse hit her body. She gritted her teeth against the pain she knew was coming, but all her study and practice could not have prepared her for the onslaught of agony. She felt, rather than saw, the jet of light slam into her stomach. Fire spread through her limbs, bursting inside her head and shattering her thoughts and the grip of her jaw. A breathless scream ripped from her lips as her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, writhing. Her throat burned and her body twisted uncontrollably as excruciating pain tore through her. Her screams echoed off the cold stone walls, and she knew the pain would never end.

And suddenly it did. It took Bellatrix's body a few seconds to realize that her veins no longer burned. She lay on the ground, breathing heavily, blinking to bring focus back into her vision. Her cheek was slimy and wet, and she realized she had cut it on the rough stone floor—the only visible scar of her ordeal. She struggled to lift her head from the ground and looked up at the Dark Lord through hazy eyes.

"I want you to learn this," he whispered, his eyes boring into hers. "I want you to wield this power over the scum of the earth and torture them into oblivion—if you are capable." His stare held a malevolent red glow. "Do you know what it takes to cast this curse, Bella? Do you understand the anger, the hatred, the pure desire that you have to build to be able to control such force?" He took a step towards her. "Stand up, Bella."

Bellatrix pushed herself up by her elbows and struggled to regain strength in her legs. Her knees shook, and she sank back to the floor.

"I said stand up! _Crucio_!"

The same white-hot force knocked her back onto the ground. Her yells were rougher now, hoarser. Fire roared in the pit of her stomach and sliced through every nerve in her body. Her skin was being pierced, slashed from her bones by invisible knives. As the Dark Lord released her, she rolled over with a groan and retched emptily onto the stones. "Master," she rasped, licking her lips, "I will be strong enough for you."

He leaned down until his face was inches from hers. "Bella Black," he said, his voice cold and low, "do you know who I am?"

She closed her eyes and inhaled a slow, shuddering breath. "My Lord. My Master."

The Dark Lord's eyes widened slightly, glowing red. " _I am Lord Voldemort_."

Bellatrix didn't even hear the curse this time. She felt it stab her chest and shrieked as her consciousness ebbed away and his face faded into blackness.


End file.
